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kestisvrse · 2 months

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you don’t know me

pairing ⋆ spidey!luke castellan x gn!reader au. fluff with a bit of angst. friends to lovers.

synopsis ⋆ spider-man appears at your window for help, and accidentally reveals his identity.

warnings ⋆ blood descriptions, stitching, swearing, stranger danger tbh, bit dramatic(?), kinda rushed i apologize | wc: 2.5k

a/n ⋆ i hate the ending of this so feel free to not read it😭😭

♫ - jackie and wilson by hozier

1:33am

it was hard trying to stay awake at this time, sound of the rain against your window and the soft snores of your roommates made it was easy to focus on closing your tired eyes instead of looking over all the notes scattered on your desk, it seemed nothing could stop you from drifting off to the peaceful place despite the thought of your sore neck in the morning from being slouched over your desk, but three taps against your window made your eyes shoot open.

he regretted it immediately, as he watched your head rise from the desk, but what else could he do? he gripped his side as he watched you mumble to yourself at the sight of spider-man on your fire escape, but you quickly opened the window.

“what the fuck?” you whisper at the sight, the heavy rain began to cover your window sill and floor but you didn’t even notice.

“hi, um i know this must seem very odd..” the superhero in front of you trailed off as you let him in, “shit, i’m bleeding on your carpet.”

“what- oh shit!” you gasp, noticing the giant gash he gripped on his torso, without a second thought you grabbed his hand and dragged him into your private bathroom, pushing him to sit on the toilet as you rummaged in your cupboards, as you pulled out a first-aid kit, you rummaged for supplies, “can i ask why the hell spider-man is bleeding in my bathroom right now?”

“i- i lost a lot of blood, i wouldn’t have been able to make it to my place in time.” he lied, “not to sound creepy but i saw your light on and.. and i needed help.”

“can you take the top half of your suit off?” you ask, washing your hands, as if you hadn’t even acknowledged what he had said. he nods, unzipping the back and removing his arms from the sleeves, letting the suit rest at his waist, his mask still hiding his identity, “this will hurt.” you warn, even though he had definitely experienced worse than a wound being wiped down.

but still he winced, clenching his jaw, as you realized it wasn’t just a cut, he had been stabbed.

“thank god you stumbled across a med-students dorm.” you mumble to yourself, trying to lighten the mood as you get ready to stitch his side together, as he went to laugh at your comment he was interrupted by a groan of pain emitting from his throat.

“i know it hurts, but try to be quiet. if you wake clarisse, my roommate up, she will not make this situation any better.” you say, luke holds back a laugh knowing it was definitely true, he bites down on his lower lip as you stitch him up. luckily it was a shallow cut,.

you worked in silence, occasionally broken up by strewn out swears and winces from the superhero, biting your lip in concentration. as you tied together the final stitch you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

“okay, the hard part is done.” you informed him, wiping down any excess blood that stained his skin.

“thanks.” he mutters weakly, moving to adjust his posture but immediately freezing as pain shoots up his body.

“stay still.” you say, “i still have to bandage it.” pulling out medical tape and gauze out of your medical bag, he felt as your hands occasionally slipped off the white bandage and touched his stomach. the pain almost subsided as the feeling of your fingertips burned into him. wrapping the bandage around his torso and taping it down you lean back on your knees, letting out a sigh.

he focuses on you as you stand, washing blood off your hands in the sink before cleaning up your supplies, you glance at him catching him staring, as he pretends to admire your bathroom as if he hadn’t been in here before.

“um-“ he clears his throat, “sorry for bleeding on your floor.” he mentioned, guilt evident in his voice.

“s’okay, i didn't like that carpet much anyways.” you say, which was a lie. luke remembered vividly how happy you were to get what you called, ‘the best rug ever’ for your room, his brows furrow.

you lean back against the bathtub, letting out a sigh, he goes to move but you nudge him with your foot, “don’t go just yet, won’t be good to swing on new stitches.” you explained to him, as he leaned back against the back of the toilet.

his breathing was sharp and inconsistent as his stomach stung in pain, his eyes squeezed shut, “the only thing i have for pain is like advil and tylenol. i don’t know if that helps with stab wounds though.” you spoke up, he shakes his head in response.

“i’ll be fine, just- just need to catch my breath.” to which you nodded in response.

“can i get you water?” you suggest, quickly standing as a ‘please’ is heard from under the mask, him suddenly noticing the scratchy and dry feeling of his throat. you rush out the room, tiptoeing into the kitchen to grab water for the superhero, as you return and hand it to him, you spin around so he can remove his mask.

his face was red as he watched you carefully, slipping his mask above his nose to gulp down the glass. scared you’d spin around to discover it was your friend bleeding out in the bathroom.

but you didn’t, as he pulled the mask back down and placed the cup on the counter, is when you turned and returned to your spot on the floor, bringing your knees to your chest.

he begins to shuffle uncomfortably on the toilet, breathing harder as his back slouched and his body tensed. the bandages felt tight on him, as he resisted the urge to rip them off, he was quickly distracted as you kneeled in front of him, placing your hand on his exposed wrist.

tingles shot up his body at the feeling of your skin against his again, it felt so odd, knowing he had hugged and brushed past you so many times but this was different, every touch had him blushing as butterflies flew around his stomach, he didn’t know you felt the same way, but with luke, not spider-man.

“control your breathing, your pulse is out of control.” you breathe, your pointer and middle finger pressed against his wrist feeling his pulse.

he began to focus on your breathing, watching as your chest rose and fell while you seemingly seemed focused on the wall of the bathroom. he quickly matched his breathing with yours, sitting up straight as your hand pulled away from him.

“thank you, for helping me.” he stammered, suddenly self conscious of his voice, how hadn’t you recognized it?

“i mean, what else was i supposed to do? there was a superhero at my window sill.” you scoff in disbelief, “it’s fine, i mean, it’s the least i can do for you keeping me- uh new york, safe.” you clear your throat, staring at your hands that rest atop your knees. “can i ask you something?”

his throat dries, “yeah?”

“i mean- obviously don’t answer if it’s too personal or gives away your identity, but.” you tilt my head, “do you like… live a normal life during the day? or are you always spider-man?” you ask cautiously.

he pauses to think about his answer, narrowing his eyes at you, “oh yeah, i-i do have a normal life during the day.” he confesses, the hand that grasped his stomach moves to scratch the back of his neck.

“cool.” you reply, stopping yourself from question him farther.

“you aren’t asking any questions,” he stated quietly, almost in disbelief. as he spoke, he shifted his attention to your face. “i was expecting some like freaked out reactions. but you’re... you’re really chill about this.”

“you have a secret identity for a reason, i wouldn’t want to ruin that for you. you keep the city safe, and that’s all i need to know.” you shrug in response, staring at the white eyes of his mask.

“i mean it’s so crazy.” you say randomly, causing his head to tilt in confusion, “i’ve thought about it before you know, imagine one of my friends was a masked superhero.” he tenses, knowing that in fact it was true, “like my friend luke, he’s always disappearing at random moments.” his eyes widen but you don’t notice because of the mask, chuckling to yourself at the thought.

“yeah, imagine that.” he murmurs in response, suddenly very sweaty in stress.

“how’re you feeling?” you turn your attention back to him.

“still hurts a lot, but i should go now.” he explains, his hand on the counter to steady himself as he stands, “again, thank you so much.”

you walk to the window, opening it and helping him climb out onto the fire escape, “again” you repeat him, “it’s the least i could do.”

4:56pm

you yawn as you open the door revealing luke castellan, bag swung over his shoulder and hair messy from the wind, he gave you a lopsided smile, “ready to study?”

you shake your head as he enters your apartment, “i was studying all night, barely got sleep.” you respond, leading him to your room.

he just nods his head at you in response, cheeks growing hot, sure you were studying, before his alter ego stumbled through your window.

as he walked into your room, he immediately took notice of the spot of your carpet that had been rolled over, to cover the evidence of the blood stain. his stare lingered there, before quickly collecting himself to sit on your bed.

“i made these flashcards for you last night.” you break the silence, holding up pastel green cards, “ready to be tested, castellan?” you tease, plopping onto the bed and leaning against the headboard as he takes his jacket off.

“oh bless you for those.” he praised, comfortably laying down at the end of your feet.

“just admit i’m your favourite person.” you giggle, he rolls his eyes before encouraging you to begin.

thirty minutes past as you tested him, reaching the end before you would swap over, “alright” you clear your throat, “next- luke?” your gaze drifts up from the card.

“yeah?” he asked, waiting for you to continue.

“you’re bleeding.” you point at his shirt, he looks down to find his blue t-shirt slowly bleed red, dripping down his side. immediately, he reacted by pressing down as hard as he could against the wound, a small whimper escaping his lips in the process.

“what-“ you cut yourself off, to look up into his eyes, eyes widening in the process “no fucking way.”

he tore his attention away from his wound, blood seeping into your bed sheets, “i-“ in a flash you’re up from the bed, cards spilling onto the floor as you yank him up causing him to yelp. he sits down on the toilet as you rummage for the first aid kit, again.

“take off your shirt.” you demanded, and despite the surprise this brought him, he didn’t resist. he removed his shirt almost immediately, revealing the bloody coated bandages.

you stared at his chest, the fact that it was the exact same as spider-mans made you wanna scream, but you held back, removing the bandages and staying quiet to patch him up, too scared to speak.

luke stayed silent, staring at you with sad eyes, praying you would forgive him. he winced every so often at the sting of you restitching some stitches that came loose, and rewrapping his stomach with fresh gauze.

your lips pursed together as you washed your hands, refilling the same cup from last night with water and placing it beside him before walking off into your room. luke quickly tugs hair shirt back on, ignoring the blood stain and the pain that shot up his body at the sudden movement, before going to stand in front of you in your room, “i’m sorry.” he whispers.

“you could have died, and it would have been my fault.” you remarked, “can you imagine? spider-man dies in my bathroom and i take his mask off to reveal my best fucking friend.” you scoffed, tears covering your waterline.

his expression softened, as he nudged your foot with his, “but i didn’t.”

“but you could have!” you yell, shooting up to stand in front of him, “jesus luke, this is what you’ve been doing all year? this is why you disappear all the time?” he stares at his shoes as you rub your forehead.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, a sad expression covering his face, as he blinked rapidly, “i’m sorry for putting you through that. i didn’t mean to worry you.”

“you-you’re spider-man.” you gasp out, in disbelief. your hand clutches your chest as tears roll out onto your cheeks. his hand brushes your bicep as you flinch.

“yeah… yeah i am.” he sighs, guiding you to sit back down on your bed, “i wish i hadn’t come here last night but- i wouldn’t have been able to stitch that up myself.” he sighed as you sobbed into your hands.

“you could have died.” you choke out, repeating yourself before falling into his side, almost on instinct he wraps his arm around you, rubbing your back comfortingly. he knew you wouldn’t respond well if he had ever told you, but he hadn’t thought about how you would feel to him almost dying in your bathroom.

“i’m okay. i promise.” he breathed into your hair, but you just shook your head in response, unable to respond as you tried to catch your breath.

“i don’t care if i am fast asleep, if this ever happens again, you come to me luke, i stitch you up.” you begged, looking up to him teary eyed.

his gaze softens looking at you but nodded in response, “okay, i promise.” his hand hovers over you neck, “i didn’t want to put you in danger or worry you. i would have told you. i was also scared you wouldn’t… wouldn’t look at me the same” he whispered.

“you’re still luke castellan, i still will like you no matter what, you just… you scared the shit out of me.” you sputtered out, not thinking about what you were saying to the boy in front of you, his body tensed.

“like me?” he asks, brows furrowed to see if you meant as friends or.. as more. he got his answer as he watched your eyes widen slightly and you began to stutter, “you… you like me?”

“what- no i meant-“ you shake your head so hard he thought it might spin off, and so he took his chance. the hand that hovered over your neck held your face still as he connected his lips with yours.

you found yourself unable to kiss back in shock, he heats up in embarrassment as he began to pull away, which brought you to your senses as you pulled him back down to press a soft kiss against his lips.

he pulled away for air, leaning your foreheads against each other.

“i can’t believe i accused you of being a secret superhero, while infront of you last night.” you mumbled, as he just laughed in response and shook his head.

“i promise to be more safe, just for you.” he said, leaning in to peck your lips.

#sienna’s fics #luke castellan x you #luke castellan au #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #pjo au #pjo x reader #spiderman #spiderman au #luke castellan as spider-man #percy jackson #percy jackson au #fluff #angst with a happy ending

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jaybirdswriting · 9 months

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Injuries For Your Characters To Receive When You’re In The Mood For Angst (And How To Treat Them.)

A: A bite wound. (Wash the wound with soap and water, then cover the area with a bandage. Afterward your character will need medical care from a doctor to make sure that they aren’t going to get rabies or an infected bite area.)

B: A sprained wrist. (Your character should ice the area and avoid activities that cause pain. It’s also important to compress the area with bandages (But not so much that it cuts off circulation!) and keep it elevated.)

C: A stab wound to the stomach. (This is an emergency room visit because abdomens have a lot of vital organs. Just straight to the ER.)

D: A concussion. (A concussion is brain trauma so your character really should be checked out by someone at the ER. Afterward they should take it mentally easy and possibly take pills for pain.)

E: A black eye. (An ice pack on the swollen area should help.)

F: A broken ankle. (Your character will probably need to go to the Doctor to get their leg splinted. After leaving the hospital they’ll need to take it easy on their foot until it’s healed.)

More Undercut

G: A bloody nose. (Stay standing or sitting and tilt your head forward so blood doesn’t go down your throat. Then your character should pinch their nose until the bleeding stops.)

H: Being scratched. (Clean the area with water and then use antibiotic ointment on the cut. Then cover the area with a bandage and keep watch for signs of infection.)

I: A broken tooth. (Your character has a dentist visit in the cards.)

J: Getting their hair yanked. (Your character would probably be fine. It would just hurt in the moment.)

K: Accidentally biting their own lip. (Clean the area with a wash cloth and water.)

L: A migraine. (Your character should turn off the lights and lay down for a bit. Possibly take a pill made for migraines as well if your character has any. Sipping on coffee and putting an ice pack on their forehead can help as well.)

M: A broken back. (Your character will likely need a back brace for six to twelve weeks and to take it easy on physical activity.)

N: A broken finger. (The finger will need to be immobilized until it heals, and casts that go the elbow are common because they stop the hand and finger from moving. Which gives it the best chance to heal.)

O: A slash to the neck. (Your character is going straight to the emergency room.)

P: A punch to the face. (Put an ice pack on the bruised area.)

Q: A slash to the face. (Would need to be cleaned and bandaged and possibly stitched up depending on the depth of the cut. Would also bleed a ton because of the blood vessels in the face that are close to the surface of the skin.)

R: A broken rib. (There’s actually not a lot you can medically do to treat a broken rib. Instead you’d be looking at icing the painful area and doing breathing exercises so you don’t develop pneumonia. Also rest will help.)

S: Rugburn. (This can be treated with a little cold water, antibiotic ointment, and a bandage.)

T: An electric shock. (If the shock caused fainting, severe burns, confusion, difficulty breathing, or heart problems, your character would need a trip to the emergency room. If not the burns could be treated with bandages and antibiotic ointment.)

U: A dislocated shoulder. (Some gentle maneuvers might pop the shoulder back into place. If not your character will need to see a doctor. Regardless of how it’s fixed your oc should take it easy on their shoulder for a bit.)

V: Stubbing their toe. (Apply ice and if it’s bad then your character should elevate their leg.)

W: A busted ear drum. (A busted ear drum can heal on it’s own a lot of the time. It might need surgery in a severe case.)

X: A bullet wound in the shoulder. (Despite how small this injury is treated in a lot of media, this is probably going to be an emergency room visit. The bullet could either be fully removed or left inside depending on the circumstances. They could also either be sent home with an open or closed wound. Either way the wound will need to be cleaned afterward and it’s possible your character will have emotional trauma from being shot.)

Y: A split lip. (An ice pack could help.)

Z: A broken nose. (For a minor fracture that hasn’t caused a nose to become misshapen, it may be fine to not see a doctor. In that case you’ll need to ice the area and probably take pain meds. If the nose is crooked the bone might need to be manually realigned.)

#angst #angst prompts #hurt/comfort prompts #Prompts #Writing Prompts #OC Prompts #writeblr #Writing

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answer2jeff · 4 months

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' treat me tonight '

a/n: this is (debatably) some of the best smut i've ever written but i'm still new to the field ! give ya girl some suggestions if desired.

song : i know we could be so happy baby.

warnings : fluffy smut, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), piv sex (unprotected), both reader and carmen have a bit of a praise kink, brief hairpulling, the "L-word," established relationship, gets a little rough towards the end, back scratching, porn with no real plot. not proofread

word count: 2.6k+

MDNI : i am not responsible for your media consumption.

NSFW under the cut — last warning!

"Try it," Carmen cupped your jaw as he lifted the wooden spoonful of creamy, tomato soup to your mouth, thumbing your bottom lip gently so you could carefully swallow every last bit. He enjoyed feeding you, if he was being totally honest. Even if this had been upon your request. Making his girl happy with what he did best was nothing short of a blessing to him.

"Mmm," you hummed in amusement, swallowing before smiling contently and nodding your head. "'S great, Carmy. Fuckin' delicious."

Long days at work dealing with insensitive clientele and immature coworkers seemed to be so easily remedied by Carmen's cooking. You weren't sure if it was because it was him catering to you and loving you the one way he always knew how, or if the food was just that fucking amazing. Maybe a little bit if both.

"Yeah? Alright," he chuckled a bit, grabbing the ladle beside the pot and scooping the simple, yet beautifully crafted tomato soup into a ceramic bowl. He seemed to know exactly how you liked it, despite him asking you if you enjoyed it every. single. time.

You accepted the bowl with a sickly sweet smile on your face, giving Carmen a kiss on his clean shaven cheek to thank him for his gesture before hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen counter. Carmen just stood with his arms crossed against his chest as he leaned against the dining table, candidly watching you enjoy the warm bowl of soup

"So," you slurped some of the soup as you paused, "I'm thinkin' of giving Syd that top we found the other day."

Thrifting had become of recent liking to you anD Carmen. Just shopping and mooching around Chicago in search of vintage pieces. Mostly to actually wear, but partly to collect or regift to fellow friends. Last time you two had a day off, you found a beautiful vintage button down. A white base with downward blue stripes with a finely stitched breast pocket containing a 'V' pattern. The cuffs were cinched perfectly. It was a little baggy, too, which you knew Sydney would love.

"Ooh, yeah. I, uh, I really liked that. I think she'd really love it," Carmen nodded, "You gonna get 'er somethin' else with it? Like, to pair with it? Or just the shirt?"

"I was gonna ask you to help me with that, actually," you pointed a finger to Carmen, turning away for just a moment to gently place the empty bowl and spoon into the kitchen sink.

Carmen always thought you had a good eye for other people's tastes. Not just in fashion. The world seemed unpredictable to Carmy. But you made it look so easy, so loving to just know what people wanted. He always wished he had that kind of understanding for people. But for now, he'd admire such a trait you had.

"Hm?"

"I remember she mentioned something about having all these cool tops n' jackets and such, but, like—hardly any nice pants other than those fuckin' jeans she loves."

"Mhm," he stepped closer to you and planted his hands on your shoulders. But you soon reached for them and planted them on your hips, earning a little upward curl of his lip.

"I know you loved those nice jeans like they were your babies 'till you had to sell them," you frowned, entangling your fingers in his messy, blonde curls while your other hand rested on the back of his neck.

"Fuck, I know. Really wish I didn't have to," he tried to let out a breathy laugh to compensate for the genuine disappointment.

Fuck, did he love those pants. Pants were the one piece of fashion Carmen didn't have to second guess himself on. From jeans to slacks, he knew how to pair every possible fabric. And he never knew how to flatter the upper half of his body, so he always wore those dammed white t-shirts.

Not that you were complaining.

Especially right now, the t-shirt highlighting his broad shoulders and exposing his thick arms plastered with sentimental tattoos you always loved. You began to run your hands up and down the exposed skin. He glanced down at your patterned touch, flattered.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, anyway, I need you to help me look for a nice pair of jeans for Sydney. Can y'do that for me, hun?"

Carmen nodded rapidly, his eyes drifting from your lips and back into your eyes. His thumbs rubbed intricate little circles of adoration into your thighs.

"Yeah, baby," he smiled. "This weekend, maybe? I can take a couple hours," tilting his head, he held your chin to pull your face just inches away from his own. Something about your tendencies to make the ones you loved happy with little surprises just warmed him.

"Mhm. That works," you sighed, planting a soft kiss on his lips before wrapping your arms around his neck.

Carmens immediate suggestion just struck something in you. Months ago, he would've thrown excuse after excuse (although valid) as to when he couldn't be available, but never when he could. You felt proud of him.

"You're so good to me, Carmen."

"Yeah?"

He was learning. He was loving.

"Mhm," you barred your bottom lip behind your teeth, giving Carmen's arms a squeeze. He exhaled sharply and wondered where this could've been going.

You drove him a little crazier than he ever liked to admit. A delicate hand reached away from your hip and up to your face. He thumbed your bottom lip, the reflection of the kitchen light shining against your mouth that was glossy with a mix of both of your salivas. Carmen gazed at you in awe, a little embarrassed when he realized how long he'd been staring.

"I—" he shrugged, struggling to find the words, "I'd do it all for you, baby."

Whispering back as he began to cave in, he leaned into your neck and placing an opened mouth kiss on the skin. The smell of your perfume and the natural scent of your body was so familiar to him. It distracted him enough to let his hands roam up and down your torso before repeating that same motion on your thighs.

"Want you t.." you swallowed, your eyes shutting harshly when when he sucked a bruising hickey onto your skin.

"Want me to what, sweet girl?" Carmen mumbled, the butterflies in your stomach raging when his teeth grazed against the spot. You gently anchored your hand into his hair and pulled him away from your neck so you could see him again.

"Want you to treat me tonight," you whispered as your hands travled up to his shoulders.

He wished you could be more specific. But with your pretty eyes, your kiss-swollen lips, your thighs spread against the cold marble counter as they spilled out of your cotton shorts, how could he tease you any longer?

"That I can do."

—

Carmens body seemed to loosen up and relax as his rough hand slid down lower on your back to grab at the waistband of your shorts. You practically melted to his touch. He kissed you again, smiling against your lips as you giggled into the kiss once he slid your shorts down to your ankles. You nodded when he pulled away, ensuring him that he was on the right track.

"Need you t'spread, baby," his hand pried between your soft thighs.

"O—okay," You bit the inside of your cheek as you slowly spread your legs apart. The wet spot of arousal in the middle of your panties was completely in view now. Feeling Carmen's eyes drifting downward, you accidentally drew your knees closer together again.

"Hey," Carmen whispered while he looked into your eyes for an answer, despite your gaze being glued to the floor.

"You okay? We don't have to do thi—"

"No, no," you shook your head, "I want to. Just..not used to it. That's all."

It was true. You'd only tried oral about twice. And it went great, you couldn't deny. But you still struggled to literally open yourself up to him. You just needed a little encouragement.

"You don't have to hide, baby. You look—you are beautiful," he kissed your forehead, "so, so beautiful. Okay?"

Finally feeling some reassurance, you tried again. You spread your legs once again and let Carmen peel your soaked panties down your legs to where your shorts had been. He gave you one last look to see if you were ready, to which you happily nodded.

In the sweetest gesture, Carmen removed his own t-shirt so you wouldn't be alone. He unbuttoned his jeans and tossed them somewhere near the dining table, being left in just his boxers that outlined his slowly hardening cock.

"Thank you," you chuckled.

"Of course."

Carmen began trailing kisses from your neck down to your shoulder blade. His hands gently lifted your tank top over your head before cupping one of your breasts, his fingertips playing with your hard nipple as he kissed you one last time. He sank down to his knees, hooking your calves over his shoulders. You scooted a little closer to the edge of the counter to give him the best access to your throbbing cunt.

"Yep. Right here, baby."

He had you exactly where he wanted you.

You finally looked down at him after avoiding direct eye contact for the past few minutes. His blue eyes fully encapsulated you. He looked gorgeous between your thighs. Especially when he sucked little hickeys that wouldn't actually last against your inner thighs that made you squirm.

"You look pretty like this, bear," your hand reached to brush a loose curl out of his face. The flush that colored his pale cheeks was cute.

"You think so?" Carmen grinned. He relished in the feeling of having such gentle yet everlasting control. In his own kitchen, his beautiful girl in his hands, her thighs around his head, fully willing and wanting to let him take every part of her he could ever imagine.

You were nothing short of perfect to him.

Not wanting to waste any more time, and without preamble, he licked a bold stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit. Your breath hitched in your throat when his grip on your thighs tightened. He started to create a sense of rhythm, roughly sucking on the sensitive mound of nerve endings before soothing it with kitten licks and flat-tongued strides.

Your hand tugged at a handful of his curls. He groaned at the sensation, swirling his tongue around you to feel every fucking inch of your pussy.

"Fuck, Carmy..."

"You got the prettiest pussy, baby. So good and wet for me," he mumbled against you, his eyes still remaining closed. He needed to focus, or else he might fall apart at the sight of pure, filthy pleasure on your pretty face.

"Shut up—" you protested.

Your thighs began to shake as your head reeled back. Carmen hesitated for a moment, wiggling his fingers around anxiously before pulling his mouth away from your vulva and ever so carefully slipping in 2 large fingers.

A long, drawn out moan escaped your mouth the moment he curled his fingers upward into your g-spot. The idea of staying quiet was out of the fucking question. Oh, and now that Carmen's tongue was back on you? Forget it.

"Oh my fucking g—fuck!" you smacked your hand over your mouth, your other hand still entangled in your lovers hair. Pulling and tugging and earning the sexiest groans you'd ever heard in your life.

The sound of your voice slowly raising in pitch was enough for Carmen to change his pace. He inched himself even closer, and at an otherworldly speed flicked his tongue repeatedly against your clit. Over. And over. And over again. But his fingers slowed down to avoid overstimulating you. He needed this to last. Blissfully.

The knot in your stomach that indicated your teeter against your orgasm taunted you.

"Carm, I'm—" you took a short breath moaning incohereant babbles along the lines of 'so fuckin' good, just like that, baby' until you blurted, "I'm probably not gonna last any longer..'S too much."

You'd grown so desperate to cum that your hips ground back and forth, the tip of Carmens tongue perfectly brushing against your sensitive clit while he used the hand that was once fucking you to squeeze the fat of your breast. With his other hand, he reached down to palm his throbbing cock through the thin fabric of his boxers. He pulled his erection out from the cloth and stroked himself slowly, the final moan of "fuck," shortly followed by your name before he harshly sucked on your clit once more, was enough to throw you over the edge.

"Oh, fuck, Carmy!"

After the last couple minutes of him practically making out with your pussy, your body finally allowed itself to release, your legs shaking vigourisly as you tried desparately to catch your breath. You could literally feel a pulse-like sensation on your clit from the orgasm.

It was dirty, filthy; cumming on Carmen's pretty face right on top of his kitchen counter.

But fuck, was it hot.

—

"You think you got another one left in there for me, baby?" Carmen cooed, wrapping your legs around his hips and drawing you in so close that your breasts were pressed against his bare chest. He peppered kisses along your jaw until he resided on your lips, his tongue slipping in to create a sloppy, passionate mess of a kiss.

His clothed hard-on pressed against your clit, which was nearly fully recovered, lacking the overwhelming sensitivity it had just a couple minutes ago.

"Maybe you should find out," you teased against his ear, nipping at the skin of his neck right underneath. You gently pressed your hand against his chest, backing him up just the slightest bit so you could slip his pre-cum soaked boxers with ease.

Without another thought, Carmen carefully lined himself up with your pussy. The head of his dick passed between your folds to build anticipation. Your hands gripped his shoulders, slippery with sweat, once he finally began to push his raw cock into your hole, your arousal serving as a perfect lubricant.

"Fuck," he rasped as he watched his cock disappear into your pussy in awe "so fuckin' tight for me. So pretty n' perfect."

The two of you hardly waited to allow every thrust and slap of skin against skin get messy and rough. With Carmen desperately needing to cum and you anxiously needing to feel him inside of you, there wasn't much consideration for a slow fuck.

"Fuck me, Carmen."

With that, Carmen dug his hands into your hips and pulled several inches out of you before slamming back in. You somehow moaned louder every time. His face contorted to pure, ravenous pleasure and lust as moan and groan after groan writhed from his throat. Your nails clawed at his back, earning a "shit," and his teeth sinking into your shoulder as you ground back and forth against him to achieve the perfect thrusting angle.

"I love you," he whimpered, fucking whimpered his adoration for you. He was completely pussy drunk, his thrusts turning fast and short unlike they were when they started out.

Those words made your heart pound in your head. Sure, you'd exchanged 'I love you's' during the last year or so of your relationship, but you couldn't recall a time it was said during rough-kitchen-counter-sex.

"I love you so fuckin' much, Carm," you sobbed in a fit of utter horniness and overwhelming sense of pleasure, feeling Carmen's thick cock and squeezing your warm, gummy walls around him.

"I'm gonna cum, angel, I—"

"I know, baby. Go ahead. W-want you to fill me up."

Almost as if the universe had been working specifically in your favor, you managed to reach your orgasm just seconds before he did. Every drop of your arousal went down his thigh, while his cum perfectly filled up your cunt. He pulled out slowly watching the white and sticky semen drip down your hole.

"Was that your idea of me 'treating you' tonight?"

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #the bear smut #jeremy allen white #ugh i love him #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader smut #the bear x reader #i actually love how this turned out

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barefoothighlander · 11 months

Text

never going back again - 01

summary: ghost finds himself at the wrong safe house, injured and unable to call for backup

simon ‘ghost’ riley x innocent fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), violence, depiction of wounds, blood loss, mention of scars

next part masterlist

a/n: this poll won so here's the first part, enjoy

Ghost pulls himself from the rubble, the sound of the blast ringing in his ear, his whole body hurts but he can’t pinpoint where, he brings his hand to feel over his chest before looking down, definitely bleeding, he struggles pulling his weight out from under the rocks.

“All teams this is Ghost how copy?”

It’s radio silence,

“All teams this- ah” He winces as his headphones crackle, a small spark hitting his ear. They must’ve broken in the impact, his body blown back at least 15 feet from the blast, he manages to pull himself from the debris, wincing every time he stretches his stomach. He stands, moving to grab his side arm as his vision blurs, he looks down, a pool of red forming where he had just laid. He needed extraction, and fast, he looks around, clocking his location before advancing through alleys trying to make his way to the safe house.

He manages makes it out of the city in under an hour, stumbling over rocks and pot holes, his vision straining due to the loss of blood. In the distance he makes out a small cottage, assuming that was the safe house he limps towards it. He scans the area trying to find any sign of life before making his way to the door, knocking in a pattern that would signal it was him. He’s braced against the doorframe, his head hung in front of him as the door opens, he makes out a woman’s figure and a small gasp before collapsing on the deck and passing out.

You stand in your door way utterly shocked, the last thing you expected was a giant man wearing a skull mask, covered in blood, collapsing on your doorstep. You’re taken in a blind panic, your fight or flight in full force, you kneel down, your fingers pressing against his neck, he’s breathing and you can feel his heartbeat, you glance behind him for any sign of who might’ve done this, there’s no one there. You lock your arms under his shoulders, struggling to drag him into the house, knowing there was no way you could lift him to the couch so you let him lie in the walkway.

You rush to your bathroom to grab your first aid kit, kneeling back at his side trying to locate the origin of his bleeding, he’s completely passed out but you still mutter a quiet sorry as your hands pull his shirt up, his chest covered in the thick red fluid, you grab gauze to put pressure on the wound, its lengthy, not from a bullet.

You curse yourself, trying to remember the order of things, you breath deeply pouring some alcohol into his cut, his eyes strike open as he tries to sit up in panic.

“I’m sorry! I had to clean it, just, just lay back”

He’s moving around, glancing at his surroundings till his eyes fall to your form, your clothes stained with his blood as your gentle hands press on his abdomen.

“I’ll be quick”

He stares at you, then nods slowly.

“Okay”

Your hands make quick work of putting in a few stitches, noticing that he barely winces from the pain and wiping away any excess dirt or blood from the cut.

“Are- are there any more cuts?” Your eyes scan over his form,

“I don’t know”

You nod, “Can I check”

You wait for his permission, he undoes his vest allowing you further access to his chest, you push his shirt up further, his form is littered with scars, some old and white, some new and pink.

“It doesn’t look like there’s any more on your chest” You let out a sigh of relief

He blinks slowly,

“But um, you lost a lot of blood and I don’t have any antibiotics, I can call for some help”

“No, no cops”

“What about doctors”

“No, no one can know I’m here”

“Are you in danger?”

He huffs a laugh, he’s drenched in blood and wearing a skull and you think he’s in danger.

“I’ll be fine, I have to go” He tries to stand up but stumbles, your hands moving to try and hold him up as your palms dig into his flesh.

“You can’t walk”

“I can manage”

“Please just, you can rest here” You look up at him with worry in your eyes

He looks to you

“I live alone, there’s really not much for miles around, no one will find you”

“You really shouldn’t tell those things to a stranger”

“If you wanted to hurt me you would’ve” You huff a small laugh, eyes staring up at him, “Just rest a little”

He glances around the space, it’s cozy, feminine but cozy, lots of blankets and small lights.

“Do you have tea?”

A small smile forms on your lips, “I do”

You help him to the bathroom so he can rinse off, leaving the door open a crack in case he needs help with anything before you go to the kitchen, putting the kettle on and grabbing two mugs. You hear the shower turn off a few minutes later, turning your attention to the doorway and your throat dries. He’s stood arm braced against the frame, his skin glowing with droplets of water, his modesty only covered by a small towel.

“Any chance you have clothes I can borrow?”

You’re staring at him,

“Oi”

You blink your eyes at him, pulling back from your thoughts, “Yeah sorry, um, I’ll grab them” You run into your bedroom, rummaging through your drawers for anything that would fit him.

“Here these are my boyfriends, he’s smaller than you but they should fit” You hand him a pile of clothes,

“Boyfriend? I thought you lived alone”

“Ex boyfriend” You stutter, “Just never came back for his stuff”

“His loss”

You laugh lightly, allowing him the space to move back into the washroom to change, you lean against the wall,

“So what’s your name?”

He hesitates for a moment,

“Simon”

You whisper the name to yourself, the letters dancing on your tongue as he steps out,

“Not bad” You say glancing over his now clothed form

“Yeah, cheers”

You smile, moving to the kitchen to hand him a mug of tea,

“You’re very kind, I won’t be here long”

“It’s alright, company’s nice”

“Pretty good with stitches, you get a lot of bloody men on your doorstep?”

You laugh, “No just, know how to sew I guess”

Simon nods, sipping his tea, not waiting for it to cool,

“Any chance you can tell me how you stumbled to my door?”

“Um, got lost”

“Ah I see, lost” You make air quotes with your fingers,

He sets down his mug, “Lucky is more like”

“Lucky?”

“Could’ve accidentally stumbled somewhere worse”

“And by worse you mean..” You squint your eyes, he tilts his head slightly staring back at you, “You’re very secretive Simon, has anyone ever told you that”

“Never”

You smile at his words, fighting back a small laugh as you continue to drink your tea, paying attention to the way he squirms in his seat when he hurts his wound.

“You can stay here if you need, really”

“I don’t mean to put you out”

“It’s fine, get your bearings and you can head out whenever your assassin group needs you”

“Assassin group?” He’s amused by your assumption,

“Just, trying to figure you out, hoping I was close”

“Close enough”

“And on that note, the couch is all yours” You stand from your seat, placing your mug in the sink before moving to leave the kitchen, “You know where the bathroom is, everything else is pretty easy to find so, I’m just behind those doors” You point toward the sliding door of your bedroom.

“Thank you, I’ll be out by morning”

“Right” You nod, turning back to him quickly, “If you find a small cat, that’s Goliath, don’t mind him”

“You named your cat Goliath?”

You furrow your brows, “Thought it was funny, goodnight Simon” You nod to him and walk towards your room, sliding the door shut before getting ready for bed.

Ghost makes his way toward the couch, keeping an ear out for any noises outside the house, still nervous he could've been followed, he feels strangely safe within the walls of your cottage, he knows he shouldn't. He doesn't know you, you don't know him, and yet you helped him, gave him shelter and stitched his wounds, he'd never known such a simple kindness before, always seeing the worst in people but you were different, like a glowing ray of sun in his dark mind.

It doesn't take him long to fall asleep, another anomaly considering it usually took him hours of tossing and turning to finally sleep, eventually he'd blame it on his injury and the fact that the couch was insanely comfortable compared to his issued cot.

He woke in a full panic the next morning, darting his gaze around his surroundings, remembering where he was and who he was with, it took him a moment to settle his heartbeat as a clatter came from the kitchen, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, knowing he was relatively safe.

You peak your head around the corner, cringing at the amount of noise you were making, "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you"

"S'alright, should've been up hours ago anyway"

"You hungry?"

"No, I should be going anyway" The smell from the kitchen wafts through the living room, grabbing his attention

"You sure? I made too much anyway"

He winces as he pushes himself from the couch, "Why not"

Your smile lights up your face making Ghost pull his gaze from you nervously, his eyes moving toward the floor as he makes his way toward you.

"Sit"

He obeys your command, watching you point toward a chair with a spatula in your hand, chuckling to himself at the sight of you, apron-clad some flour swiped across the front.

"Do you want syrup?"

"Please" Truth be told the man had a major sweet tooth, most people would assume he drank black coffee and ate bitter chocolate but in reality he loved sugar more than anything, always giving into his urges.

You place a plate of pancakes in front of him,

"Wait" You stop him from eating for a second, leaning forward to draw a small smiley face on top with whipped cream, giggling as he tilts his head at you.

"Thanks" He waits for a few moments, giving you time to sit down with your own plate before picking up his fork, he holds the utensil in his hand, staring down at the food.

"You aren't hungry?"

"I am, it's just, my mum used to make pancakes like this" His tone is light as he leans back in his chair slightly, thinking about his family.

"She sounds nice"

"She was"

Your smile drops, "Oh, I'm sorry"

"For what?"

"You said was"

He didn't even realize, so used to internally recalling memories to choose his words differently, shaking his head lightly at you, "Thank you". You can't see his face behind his balaclava, but his gaze softens letting you know he took no offence to your statement, giving him a tight-lipped smile before digging into your food.

You finish a few pancakes before sanding from the table, Ghost's eyes watching as you move around the kitchen, opening cabinets and pulling out a small bowl, filling it with food, shaking the dish to catch the attention of your cat.

"He comes and goes, usually he's back for breakfast, I swear he'd do anything for some food" You joke, sitting back down in front of him, "Any progress on your ear thing?"

Ghost swallows his food, shaking his head towards you, "Unfortunately no, I need to replace one of the pieces to get it to work, not sure where I'll find one"

"There's a bunch of tech stuff in one of the drawers in the other room, I don't know what any of it does but you're welcome to look through"

"That could help, thanks"

You reach for his empty plate but his hand pushes yours away, your fingers tensing at the contact, "I'll clean, least I could do", he stands from the table, collecting the dishes and placing them in the sink. You blush slightly at the gesture, tapping your fingers against the table a few times before standing.

"I have some chores to do but I'd like to check your stitches after"

"I'm sure they're fine"

You sigh lightly, leaning against the counter next to him as he rolls his sleeves up, your eyes drifting toward the ink on his forearm as the muscles tense, "Just, let me check them" You look up at him through your lashes and his mind blanks for a moment, lost in your eyes, the way you look at him like he's a person, not a monster, completely unfazed by his outward appearance.

He says nothing, just nods lightly, turning back to the task at hand, you smile to yourself at your small victory,

"I'll just be outside, don't burn anything down"

"I'll do my best" He watches you breeze through the front door, huffing a deep breath once you closed the door, suddenly aware of his surroundings and what he was doing, washing dishes in a stranger's cottage, he looked so out of place in the house, everything was soft and warm while he was dark and rigid.

He watches you through the window, you float around the property moving around the small garden outside, tucking your hair behind your ear as you kneel beside a bush of vegetables, carefully picking them one by one, tossing them into a small basket and continuing.

"Shit" He tugs his hands from the sink, the now scolding water burning him, he must've zoned out cause the steam from the sink was now filling the room, wiping his hands on a towel before turning the taps off, rubbing his skin slightly to soothe them. His attention is turned to the small black mass leaping onto the counter,

"You must be Goliath"

The cat just stares back at him with its large eyes, meowing loudly at the sight of the stranger, Ghost presses his hand to his chest, "I'm Simon"

Goliath meows, moving toward his bowl of food, leaning down to eat.

"He won't bite"

Ghost turns his head toward the front door, you're leaning against the frame, a basket of produce on your hip, "You can pet him, he won't bite"

"I'm not really an animal person"

"I don't believe that"

"Why not"

"Just doesn't seem true" You place your basket on the table, moving towards Goliath, stroking his fur lightly as he purrs, "He loves it, go ahead" You step back, urging Simon to pet him.

He raises an apprehensive hand, lightly tracing his fingers down the case back,

"You can use a little more pressure"

He looks to you, "I don't want to hurt him"

You smile, "You won't"

Simon flattens his hand, running his palm over Goliath, smiling slightly when the cat purrs in response to his touch,

"He likes you"

"How can you tell"

"He bites people he doesn't" You bite your lower lip to conceal your laughter, Simon's eyes widen as they look at you, pulling his hand back from the cat as you giggle.

"You're lying"

"Guess we'll never know" You nudge your head toward the living room, urging him to follow. He sits on the couch, shuffling a little as you sit next to him, he can feel the heat from your skin, you're close enough that he can smell your shampoo,

"May I?"

He nods as your hands gently tug at the bottom of his shirt, he leans back to help you, your eyes scanning over his form,

"How's it look" His eyes watch you

"Good, not my best work but, you'll heal"

You turn to face him, your fingers still feather-light on his skin, "Can I ask a question?"

"You can, I might not answer it though"

"The scars"

"From my job"

"Do you get stabbed for a living?"

"Something like that" His hand covers yours, dwarfing them as he pulls his shirt back down, "Nothing to worry about"

"They look serious"

He cans esne the worry in your tone, changing his own to reassure you "I'm fine love"

You nod, staying quiet for a moment before realizing that his hands are still holding yours, you move to tug them away but he grips them, holding them close as his eyes linger on you. He scans your face for a second before releasing your hands, shifting his gaze away, suddenly nervous as his hands move into his pockets.

"The drawer is just there"

"Huh?"

"The um, the drawer with the tech stuff, it's just there" You point gently toward the stack of cabinets on the other side of the room, he nods in understanding, crossing the room to search. His fingers sift through the wires, pulling some out to inspect them, tossing others to the back, his eyes land on the exact one he needs, staring at the wire.

"Find anything that works?"

He thinks for a moment, his fingers tossing all the wires back into the drawer, "Not in here"

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #cod mw x reader #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #mw2022 #simon ghost riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #ghost fluff #cod mwii #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader

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helluvapoison · 1 month

Text

Save Me

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

warning: violence n blood but happy ending

“Summon your blue blood master, whore.”

The demon carelessly drops your phone into the cage and it lands at your knees. You don’t remember if this was a ransom or a hit on your beloved. You can’t bring yourself to care because you know the minute he sees you in this state, none of it will matter.

Your tongue darted out and swiped over your cracked lips, gathering the copper taste of your own blood. The chuckle that you let out is dry, cut short by a cough that worsens the state of your throat. It highlighted the bruises littering your skin, especially those you couldn’t see.

He would.

“This is gonna end real badly f’you.” You tell the demon hoarsely, offering them the biggest, meanest smile you could muster.

Your thumb hits the call button without hesitation.

You hadn’t even uttered a single word.

Immediately the energy in the warehouse shifts. An undeniable chill crept in suddenly and seemed to chase off any light the windows provided. Someone may as well have thrown a blanket over the building. If not for your phone providing a faint glow, you wouldn’t have been able to see your labored breaths leaving your lips. Simultaneously, the shitty bones of the warehouse trembled, quietly at first then ramping up to a deafening sound that surely meant it would collapse at any moment. It wouldn’t. Not while you were there. Even if it was only your body for him to collect, no damage would come unto you by his doing.

The demon’s eyes narrow in suspicion, like whatever was happening was your fault and yours alone. Your crooked smile widens into a malicious forewarning for what’s to come. The grin pulls and tears the cut on your lip that had only just stitched itself together, stinging you in retaliation. You’re certain the light illuminating you from below, combined with the blood, has you looking positively mad.

“Told you.”

Lucifer was more than a king; he was the judge, jury and executioner for his subjects. It wasn’t often they forgot it but should they do something drastic, such as stealing his beloved, then he would make an example out of as many souls necessary. You knew this and you knew it well— you’ve been around every century or so when the newer sinners needed a refresher. This just so happened to be your first time being directly involved in why.

It must be then that the harrowing realization finally sets in. They’ve bit off more than they could swallow and now it was going to choke the life out of them. Or, more accurately, he would.

Apparently determined to get in what would surely be their final reprisal, they reached into the cage and yanked you forward by your neck. Your forehead quickly meets an icy bar, sending pain ringing through your skull in greeting. Trapped, a mangled cry rips through the room that you don’t recognize is your own. You writhe in the demon’s grip, struggling to claw at their wrists and face. Tearing at their skin, trying to make them even in wounds more than you’re trying to escape, you manage a particularly good swipe at their eyes that makes them reel back. In their stubbornness, they refuse to release you and your face is squished against the cage as they stumble and crash.

No, you realize. They were flung clear across the room like an unwanted doll, landing in, what was now, a pile of wood. Familiar eyes of ruby and gold steal your attention from the groaning demon. You blink furiously, forcing your vision to tell you true. Of course you knew he would come for you, that was never in question, but whether you would be alive or not for that rescue did cross your mind. Your body had already begun to relax, melting with the comforting warmth of your beloved’s presence. Lucifer’s gasp is rigid, his voice trembling in disbelief and rising fury but he manages a soft tone just for your sake.

“Oh, angel. My sweet, sweet dove. I’m here now, I’m here. I’m so sorry.”

Metal creaks under his palms but it takes less effort than opening a jar of marmalade. He’s obscenely gentle while plucking you out of the cage, acutely aware of the way your breath hitches at his touch. Those aforementioned bruises pulse with vigor, spreading a dull ache all over your body. Just as you suspected, Lucifer's eyes roamed all over counting each and every one. He’ll return the favor tenfold.

One minute Lucifer’s holding onto a fraying thread of mercy, studying your precious face and stealing the apple of your cheek. The next he feels tears slide under the pad of his thumb, swiping them into nothingness like he wished he could do your pain. Your relief is palpable in them, he can taste it on his tongue with hints of your fading fear. His golden pupils get smaller and smaller until they’re consumed entirely by red.

Logically he knows you’re right there in his arms but your weight isn’t grounding enough for him. He can’t see you anymore. All he can see is the ugly blotches that some pitiful excuse for future kindling dared to taint you with. Clearly they knew who you were and how important you were to the King of Hell, so the consequences of taking and hurting you had been glossed over but accepted nonetheless. An act against you is no less treasonous than an act against Lucifer himself; to spit at your feet would be to do the same to him.

“You’ve got guts to pull off a stunt like that, huh?” A terrifying grin cracks unevenly across his face and is shot over his shoulder at the demon that was struggling to pick themselves up. “Let’s see ‘em.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shield your face from a gust of wind. Upon opening them you realize you’re sitting on the ground alone. Lucifer unfurled his wings and launched himself over to the demon. They made it to their feet only to be launched into the wall and leaving a them-sized crater behind. Horrified and paralyzed you could only watch as Lucifer hovered over them, cocking back both fists and hurling them forward one at a time.

“I think there was one there, there— oh can’t forget here!”

Even while knowing what was to come, it still made your stomach lurch to see it firsthand. Teeth clattered to the ground in one punch, another and the demon’s eye was swollen shut. You were positive what Lucifer blocked with his body, the savagery you couldn’t see, was much worse. It shouldn’t bother you, not with how long you’ve lived down here but having blood on your hands, no matter how indirectly, made your stomach lurch.

“Luci—“ You croaked, your throat closing in on itself when you tried to speak. It was as if your body had sided with your beloved’s vengeance.

However the tiny sound managed to put a stutter in Lucifer’s next blow, his knuckles halting just before the demon’s face. A frustrated snarl rips from him and cracks through the silence like thunder, but the storm in him quiets before he turns to you. Wracked by guilt more than rage, your beloved can’t fully face you.

You try again, “Can we—“ only to be cut off by a cough.

“Stop—stopstopstop,” Lucifer whispers, voice getting closer, louder, “I’m here, I’m here. Don’t… don’t hurt yourself.”

True to his word, he’s right there. All it took was a blink and he’s kneeling before you, hovering his hands all over as if he’s not sure where to touch you. How can he comfort you when you’re bruised all over? You force yourself to continue, knowing he’ll keep his focus with you if you do.

“Jus’ wanna go home.”

Lucifer’s demonic features flare, hesitation on the tip of his tongue. Unfinished business never seemed like an issue before. With the bewildered look he gave you, you may as well have asked him to throw out his entire duck collection. The thought of using your voice again made your throat itch so you beseech him with your eyes, pinching your brows together and turning them up.

Scrunching his face once more he sighed heavily, seemingly defeated as his horns shrunk back into his skull and his tail retreated. Then your Lucifer returned to you at last, smiling softly, though guilt and regret swam in his crimson eyes.

“Home it is. Agh, I hate when you use your secret weapon against me. It’s not fair, I mean, how am I supposed to resist this face?”

You try to keep your own smile from spreading too far, opting instead to squeeze the man close to you to share in your joy. Lucifer was starving to do the same, holding you as close as he could without stressing your wounds. You could feel him inhale against your neck like you were air to him, filling him with relief and the ability to carry on.

When he pulled away you grew worried, especially when his smile dropped and he turned ever so slightly to the bloodied and battered demon.

“Congratulations, peasant, you’ve been pardoned. Courtesy of the King of Hell and his angel— who you will never ever even think of again. Right?” There was a pained groan from the demon that sent a dark chuckle bubbling up from Lucifer’s chest, “I thought you might agree. Do me a favor and spread the word? I’d rather not do this again. You know what I mean?”

There was a sharp edge to his grin for a moment too long but it faded by the time he eagerly returned his attention to you. The portal below whirred to life with a faint hum and sent pulses of warmth up into the air. You were completely and utterly wrapped up in your beloved that you hardly noticed. Lucifer mumbled into your hair how he would kiss your “boo-boos”, get you bandaged up and in pajamas in no time.

Hearing that, it was a liiittle hard to believe he was the same man that was seconds away from slaughtering someone for you.

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ thanks for voting everyone!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer morningstar x you #hazbin hotel x you #reader insert

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libbyfandom · 5 months

Text

Mizu Touch-Starved Head-canons

The way this women is probably so touch starved yet emotionally constipated. She just wants to touch you, but I think she’d rather get into another fight with an army than admit that.

You feel your braid shifting on your collarbone and you startle, your face jerking down as you instinctively take a half step back. You see familiar, slim fingers rubbing the end tail between fingers. Your eyes trail up the arm to see Mizu’s gaze on where she’s holding your hair. Blue eyes meet yours over the rim of her glasses. Her expression is unreadable, face blank. She turns and continues down the path, unaware of how your heart is beating faster at how she just… helped herself to touching you more intimately.

Mizu will grab your wrist to lead you through crowded streets filled with merchants and locals so you don’t get lost. Over time and instances her grip ends up lower and lower until she’s leading you around with your hand in hers. You ask why she doesn’t do this to Ringo, he’s the one more likely to run off. She tells you she’ll just listen for the bell, and dryly asks if you’re trying to get one too.

She walks so close her shoulder constantly brushes up against yours. You try to sidestep to widen the gap to prevent accidentally stepping on her foot. She always sways closer immediately, fast enough you start to realize it’s on purpose.

Brushing of shoulders turns into brushing of hands, and hers twitch each time like they do when they’re ready to rip her sword out and cut down her enemies. But they twitch closer to your fingers than to the sheath.

Brushing also turns into leaning. In the inns, next to the campfire, when she’s stitching herself up. Her weight leans into you and you in turn lean back to keep her upright. Her eyes flick toward you, glancing out of the corner, before going back to her needle.

When guards come through the inns looking for the onryo rumored to have swept into town, her head tilts down, using her kasa to conceal her face. She definitely did not need to also tilt it to the side to the point that you can feel her warm breath tickle your neck. Goosebumps rise on your skin, hand spasming at the sensation. Your opposite hand comes up to rub at the raised skin, and you hear a huff of amusement. Cool fingertips press against your neck, the lightest touch, before her hand is back at her side. Only Ringo catches her fist clenching, and then forcibly unclench before you can see.

#I am not used to making my writings public but the Mizu thirst is strong #And people are asking for more content of her x reader so #didanyoneordertouchstarvedMizuwithasideoflonging #blueeyesamurai #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #When I say I'm new to tumblr i mean new new

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foofiked · 1 month

Text

By the rocks!

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite’s!daughter reader

summary: Luke knows that you sneak around at night to go to the lake, and he decides to play around by ‘coincidentally’ bumping into you, hoping to grab your attention.

warning/s: fluff, luke sortve dark, suggestive, a few (more than a few) kisses, lots of teasing, strong language, semi-public making out and shi, soft!reader, soft!luke, friends to lovers, implications of sex, sexual tension

authors note: please tell me people are still hung up on luke, cause i am holding onto him. endings quite abrupt so don’t attack me !! (btw reqs are open, don’t be shy<3)

Rays of moonlight kissed the lake, ripples cascading onto the rocks, tall, bodies of grass surrounding your figure, and your hand limp in the water.

Evenings were always peaceful for you, no distractions, no loud, whiny voices, just a serene environment.

As the night passed you expected no interruptions - as always - but you heard leaves rustled behind you, your eyebrows narrowed with curiosity as you turned your head around.

Luke Castellan. Someone you were familiar with, dusting himself off. “Castellan?” Your tranquil voice asked as he neared you, “shouldn’t you be in your cabin?” You added with genuine confusion.

“Shouldn’t you?” He replied in a witty manner. You smiled at him, and he swore he saw an angel in your grin but it was just his amazing visualisation.

“Ptf, I’m always here, don’t worry about me” you said as you dropped your head back to the sight of the ocean, leaning one side of your face on your knee. “I should come here more often then” he shrugged, sitting down on a patch of soft grass.

“I wouldn’t mind that” you stated, your voice soft and soothing to his ears.

His cheeks reacted immediately, and he was astound by the fact that he was a mess around you but a well disciplined guy in front of others.

“Why are you here” he was here for you - duh - but he was also here to bring himself at ease, the stressful day that was brought upon him absolutely destroyed his mindset.

“Rough day, one of the fuckfaces— I mean ares kids nicked me” he sighed lightly before he noticed your eyes drop down to the scar on his forearm. Your nimble fingers ran across his stitches, “are you okay?” Concern present in your demeanour.

“Mhm” he hummed, staring at you longingly. “You sure? your stich is really…” You moved close absentmindedly, scrutinising his cut before looking up at him, realising the proximity between your faces.

You felt frozen, he felt frozen. None of you’s were speaking, he was only inching closer till his top lip grazed yours.

Finally, with lots of anticipation, you closed the gap, grabbing his cheek with your palm. He let his hands travel to your waist, squeezing it ever so softly.

“Luke…” your voice breathless as he gently pushed you down to the grass.

Your fingers left his face, going down to the hem of his shirt and under to get a feel of his toned abdomen. A quiet groan left his mouth as he reciprocated the action, going down to lift your camp shirt off. You helped him by pulling it over your head and reconnecting your lips.

Somehow you felt comfortable: relaxed under his presence, so you unclamped the two pieces of metal of your bra, slowly sliding it off. Luke was mesmerised, in-fact he was intoxicated.

“So beautiful” his breath fanning your neck, “soo, soo, beautiful” Luke trailed back up to your mouth before placing a hand on one of your breast. Your breathed hitched as you continued to indulged in his lips.

“Take this off” you ordered, stretching the hem of his shirt as he took it off. A smile poked at your lips when you finally saw him exposed, you explored his chest, your fingers going up and down over every bump. “Are you done?” Before you could even let out an answer he stuffed his mouth back to yours, making you laugh.

#luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smut #luke castellan #pjo x reader #pjo series

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fashioninstitutechennai-blog · 2 years

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zeltqz · 7 months

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— ✭ — 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 — ✭ —

-> SUMMARY. satoru's smart in many things, but when it comes to dating and relationships, he's lacking that intellect. somehow he expects you to always be there for him to patch him up.

-> pairing : gojo!satoru x nurse!reader

-> length: 5.7k

-> tags. nsfw+18 content, injuries (mentions of bruises, cuts and scratches), implied beef with suguru (i shall not be elaborating further lol), medical practices; stitches etc, gojo is fucking annoying lol, love him though, reader is going to grow grey hairs bc of him, implied fwb relationship, satoru ghosts reader for five months (not his proudest moment but plz giv him a chance), marks during sex, blood mentions, unsafe sex, creampie, nicknames

-> a/n: im currently having a gojo brain rot. its not funny and this is a cry for help. ps i have no clue how to do any medical practices so if you notice some things are off just...shh.... 🤫

Satoru strolled through the clinic doors, his shirt rumpled and stained with remnants of blood. From the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of an older woman clutching her purse and just opposite her, a mother grabbed her kids closer towards her and away from him.

Ignoring them was easy, after all he was here for one thing and one thing only. He approached the front desk and the nurse behind the counter was tapping at her keyboard, head tilted towards her shoulder to balance her phone.

“Ah okay, gotcha. Your appointment is scheduled for next Tuesday. See you next week sir!” she said enthusiastically before hanging up and looking up at Satoru. “Hi, how can I help you toda—”

Her eyes widened as she met his gaze. Satoru rested his elbows on the surface and smiled back at her.

“Hey! Is (Name) working tonight?” He didn’t even get the question out fully before craning his neck to peek past the doors reserved for the nurses.

She hesitated for a moment, wondering if you’ll be mad if she answered truthfully. It was conflicting for her. She’s fully aware of your brief relationship with Satoru. Hell, all the nurses were somewhat intrigued and aware to an extent. The extent being you refused to tell them any personal details of the matter. The only things they knew was when you’d suddenly get a text on your phone and the next five minutes you were leaving early, you were with Satoru.

But that was months ago.

His frequent visits and texts started declining over the last few months and by the lack of Satoru written all over your face and phone, they all just assumed you stopped seeing each other.

Satoru examined her hesitation and came to a conclusion. “Ah. She is, isn’t she? So, where is she? The back?” He tried to sneak another look past the small vertical window allocated on the wooden door to get a glimpse of your hair or anything before the nurse stood up.

She wasn’t tall by any means, but with the way Satoru was hunched, it lowered his magnificent height to something more manageable and she was able to block his view with her head. “You’re not allowed to look inside there.”

“Then stop wasting my time and tell me if she’s here.” His eyes flashed momentarily as he started to get pissed and it was enough for her knees to buckle and give way, dropping her successfully back onto her seat.

“S—she’s not—”

Before she could even finish her lie, the sound of a door opening from down the hallway caught everyone’s attention. An elderly lady walked out of the room, holding a walking stick and a grateful smile on her face. Once she got a reasonable distance out of the room, she turned around to face you and bowed, thanking you for the help.

You held onto her and helped her down the hallway a bit before letting go and leaning against the wall, arms crossed and a satisfied smile on your lips as you watched her walk at a slow but steady pace. Her hand stopped trembling as much against the stick and you were just happy she was slowly improving.

It wasn’t until you looked past the elderly woman’s head did you notice Satoru himself, hunched over the reception. Your fellow nurse looked at you guilty before sighing.

Satoru stood up straight once he met your eye.

“Oh hell no,” you muttered under your breath and quickly darted back inside the room.

It’s unfortunate you’re messing with Satoru Gojo of all people because he was faster than you and crossed the distance in the hallway before you managed to lock the door behind you.

You did however, manage to get it shut and used it to your advantage and pressed your back against it.

Satoru sighed, the sound smooth and honeyed, knocking gently on the door’s window with his knuckles. “Lemme in. I’m injured, you know?”

You couldn’t help but feel flattered that he was only acting with you, pretending to give you the choice of helping him or not because you both knew he could easily have this door open in seconds and you’d probably be flying across the room if he had his way.

“That’s got nothing to do with me, Gojo. Please leave and make an appointment. If you need an impromptu surgery, please find a hospital. Not a clinic.”

“But you’re the best nurse,” he said, pouting.

You rolled your eyes. Yeah right. If anything they were all better than you. You only started working here recently, having a few months experience compared to years. The first time you gave him stitches, you had pierced him full of holes so much that he was even surprised he had a drop of blood left inside him, but he kept healing himself so you barely noticed the damages.

Another thing about Satoru.

He doesn’t actually get injuried. His injuries are nothing but an illusion he creates to get close to you. All the times he came in battered and bruised, nothing was real and if they were, they didn’t hurt one bit. But it didn’t help that he was such a good, charming actor that you couldn’t help but fall for his little game every time.

“I’m not the best nurse, Gojo. Now for the second time, if you need treatment, go to a hospital or make an appointment.”

“Gojo?” he questioned, sounding utterly confused. At first, he thought the sudden use of his last name was just a fluke on your end. But twice in a row? Nah, he’ll wait to see if you use it one more time before making a judgement.

“Yes. Isn’t that your name? Now are you going to a hospital or not Gojo? Us nurses have actual patients to attend t—”

The door was pushed open easily and he walked inside without a care in the world as you fought back the childish urge inside you to not stomp your feet on the floor and throw a tantrum.

Satoru stood tall over you and it wasn’t until the ceiling light hit his face that you finally noticed the scratches on his face and cut on his lip. They weren’t hospital level serious but you couldn’t help but feel worried at the sight of seeing him hurt.

“What the hell happened to you?” There was no malice in the question, your voice filled with nothing but concern.

He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly. “Got into a bit of trouble,” he said with a chuckle, scratching his messy hair.

You scowled and shook your head before holding his face in your hands to examine the damages. “This looks…managable.” You pull away after close examination and begin removing your gloves. “The nurse in room 405 upstairs can help with that cut.”

You turned around to throw the gloves in the bin and wished you saw the look on Satoru’s face as his smile fell at your words.

“That’s nice and all but I was hoping you’d help me with it. You know? For old times sake, yeah?”

“Definitely not .”

“Why no—”

You turned around and poked him in his chest, hard, unaware of the big bruise under his shirt.

“You ignored me for weeks! Not even weeks actually. Months! And now you think you can just waltz in and take advantage of my services? You’re so—” You stopped yourself when you felt yourself getting angrier and took a deep breath, taking a few steps backwards create some distance between you and Satoru.

Inside, you hated to admit you actually liked Satoru and grew fond of him. You weren’t one to usually let people into your hearts but he was an exception, and he just vanished.

The first week was okay, you didn’t mind. After all the two of you were spending way too much time together on a daily basis so maybe he just needed some space?

The second week, you were also…kind of okay with it? It’s a dramatic change to go from seeing and talking to someone everyday to suddenly have two weeks no contact. It was lonely but you just chalked it up to him being busy.

By a month it was just getting ridiculous at that point. Third month? You were pissed and swore up and down if you saw him around in public you’d claw his face out with your scalpels.

Fifth month you had convinced yourself you had moved on. You blocked his number on everything and made sure he had no ways of contacting you ever, despite the fact you knew deep down you missed his touch, his kisses, his words, his voice, his dic—

“I’m sorry about that. I’m a busy man, you know?”

“It’s always ‘you know this’, ‘you know that’. Fuck —” You dug the heels of your palms in your eyes out of sheer frustration. “I don’t know anything because you can’t communicate with me! You were too busy? Busy?! Too busy that you couldn’t even open your phone and I don’t know, call me?! Text me?! I think even an email at that point would’ve made me satisfied. Not just radio silence Satoru .”

This time when you said his first name, it was filled with such emotion behind it. He could feel it from where he stood. You tried to keep your face as casual as possible but the eventual twitch of your bottom lip gave you away.

“I know baby. I’m so sorry.” He took a step forward and tested his luck. You didn’t push him away or tell him to leave you alone, so he engulfed his arms around you, wrapping you into his chest.

You refused to hug him back, standing eerily still as your face was suffocated between his chest. The scent of him was so strong that it almost made you tear up. Five months. Five fucking months of no Satoru was enough to drive you mad. You were so touch starved that you physically had to strain your arms in order to keep them at your side and stop them from wrapping around his waist.

“I’m so sorry baby. I mean that. I didn’t mean for things to get this far,” he murmured into your hair, holding you so softly almost as if you’re delicate. “But I’m here now, okay. Always.”

He was met with silence.

“Baby?” His heart skips thrice in his chest when he realises your hand rose to the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric for dear life as you tried to fight back tears.

Crying in front of people wasn’t something you normally did, almost hiding it late at night in the comfort of under your bedsheets. The tears were always so easy to flow freely during those times, but now it felt like your eyes were hot and stinging and you couldn’t control them anymore.

With his hand on the back of your neck, he slowly pulled your face away from his chest and lifted your chin to look up at him.

You were a silent crier thank god; the mere thought of you ugly sobbing and sniffing in front of Satoru made you want to end it all. He pouted and wiped your eyes with his sleeve.

“Wow, I really had an impact on you didn’t I? Interesting,” he hummed.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Fuck you.” You pulled away first and stomped over to grab some tissues. “I’ll wipe my damn face. I don’t need you.”

“You do need me though.” He pointed to the wet patch on his white shirt. “Clear proof!”

Now that your eyes are dry enough to see clearly again, your eyes wandered around the room, looking for something you could throw at Satoru’s head to knock his brain back into place. Your hands twitched into fists as you tried to control yourself again.

Satoru noticed. “You know I knew you’d be mad at me which is why I got myself all beat up so you could poke needles into my skin.” Then, he sighed, long and dramatically. “And people say I’m not thoughtful.”

“You’re not thoughtful. You’re an idiot with no common sense at all.”

“How else was I supposed to see you again?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Maybe call me?” You paused, remembering you blocked him. “You could’ve just come and seen me. You know, without getting yourself all battered? You can never think like a normal human I swear to God.”

That was what you loved about him though, his carelessness and recklessness. It only added to the excitement you felt when you were with him and the fact you knew whatever he did there’d be no consequences because he was the strongest and rules don’t even apply to him.

But Satoru doesn’t need to know all that.

Satoru scrunched his nose at your idea and shook his head. “Ehhhh I dunno. Too boring. This,” he alternated pointing his finger between the both of you, “is much better though.”

You rolled your eyes. “Get on the bed before I change my mind.”

“Yes ma’am!” He strolled over towards the patient bed and sat down, kicking his legs as he stripped off his shirt. By the time you turned around to face him with the supplies you needed, you almost dropped them all.

There was a huge bruise on his chest followed by more cuts and scratches running all down his chest.

“Gojo! Who the fuck did you fight?!” Your mouth dropped open at the sight, pure concern written all over your features.

His eyebrows furrowed a little. “Satoru*,” he corrects, looking salty. When you didn’t waver, waiting for a response, he sighed again. “It doesn’t really matter who I fought. Just come on, patch me up,” he ordered, smiling boldly at you.

“Don’t tell me what to do. Answer the question Go—Satoru.”

He smiled triumphantly at your words. “Suguru.”

It was almost amusing to him to watch you file the name and process it. It definitely sounded familiar, but you spent the last five months erasing everything Satoru related from your mind, so it took a little longer than usual to remember. But eventually you remembered who Suguru was and gasped.

“Suguru?! What—why?!”

He shrugged and you could tell he really didn’t want to talk about it. “He just…did somethings that pissed me off so we fought.” He looked unusually serious for a moment and you could tell something deeper than that happened, but you weren’t here to be his therapist. So you didn’t pry.

“Okay. Well…”

He waved your sentence off flippantly. “Don’t wanna talk about it. Seriously. Move on and fix me.”

“You’re not in the position to have an attitude right now Satoru. I can leave right now and have another nurse here to do this for you.”

That shut him up for a bit and you smiled in triumph that he was able to shut up for once.

His eyes were on you the entire time. You grabbed a cotton ball and applied alcohol to it, dabbing away at the cuts gently before beginning to stitch him up. He winced at the sting of the needle going in and you looked up at him, concerned.

“It hurts?”

“Nah. Just uncomfortable. Keep going,” he responded, giving you the okay.

With his approval, you continued with his stitches and everything was going just fine. You didn’t feel as overwhelmed with the close proximity as much as you thought you would’ve. But the second you finished up with his chest and moved onto his face, you realised you might not be able to do this.

His eyes were trained on your face the entire time and they were so intense to look at. He grinned when he noticed you pause for a moment, as if trying to keep all your focus away from his distracting stare and you wanted to stuff the ball of cotton into his mouth to wipe his smug smile off his face.

The bed was near the end of the room, meaning the light didn’t hit it as well as it should’ve, making it harder to see. So you had no other choice but hold his face up by his chin and continue dabbing alcohol on his cuts. You could see his eyes dart all over your face, from your nose, mouth, eyes, and everything you shifted backwards to grab something, those eyes of his followed.

His eyes lingered on your lips the longest, and in the silence of the room you swore the sound of your heart beating was loud enough for him to hear.

“Stop staring at me,” you said, pausing your movements.

“You nervous?”

“No. It’s just distracting.” You wiped some dried blood from his cheeks with a wet wipe.

“Not a bad thing to be distracted, Doc.”

“It is in my profession, Satoru.”

Standing this close to Satoru had its pros and cons. On your end, it was easier and quicker to fix him up being this close and you were able to see and hold his pretty face. But he was also a major distraction, making your first point render useless as you couldn’t get the job done regardless if he kept looking at you like that.

For Satoru though, you standing this close to him was only benefiting him. He could see every inch of your face this close and if he really wanted to, could trail his hands down the backs of your thighs and onto your hips. If he really wanted to though.

“Okay. I see your point,” he hummed. “Distractions aren’t necessarily a good thing. But…”

“No buts! Fuck, you’re so annoying.” You pulled away to grip at your hair, wondering if you were truly frustrated enough to rip your hair out. You’ll probably regret it in the morning so you refrain from the thought.

“Would you think it’d be annoying if I kissed you right now?”

“Yes,” you responded back without waiting a beat. “Don’t even think about it.” You went back to work, tilting his head tot he side to see if there’s anymore damage to assess.

He took advantage of your focused state to lean in closer. “You sure?” His nose brushed yours and you couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away.

You cleared your throat and jerked your head over to the camera on the ceiling near the end of the room. Satoru looked away from you for a moment to look at it.

“Nice try though,” you said with a smirk. There was no more damage to his face, he was all stitched up and his cuts were cleaned. “All done. You can go home now.”

You stepped away from him and let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. It was so intense being that close to him, your lungs actually felt peace the moment you were away.

“Alright. Let’s go.” He stood up, shrugging his shirt back on.

You turned around and looked at him in confusion. “Let’s go? I’m not going anywhere.”

“You gotta walk me to my car. What if I fall and seriously injure myself?” He put his finger on his chin, deeply thoughtful.

Your face deadpanned. “If you were good enough to drive here, then you can walk yourself to your car. I’m not an escort.”

“What time do you get off?” he asked, ignoring your previous sentence.

“I dunno. Maybe midnight? Something around that.”

He pulled out his phone from his pocket and checked the time. Almost eleven p.m. “Alright. I’ll wait for you.”

“What?! No.” You rubbed your forehead in annoyance. This dude was giving you a migraine. “Please just go home. I have my own way home already.”

“What. The bus?”

You hated his tone. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Why go on that thing when you could drive with me? You used to love my car you know?”

The fact that he was throwing what you used to be in your face like he wasn’t the one to ruin it made you angry. “And how many months ago was that, Satoru? I’ve moved on.”

“Yeah yeah.” He laced his hands behind his head and began to walk out. “We’ll see.” The door closed behind him and you stood in the room for a moment wondering if he actually left.

It felt too good to be true. But after two minutes, you went out into the hallway and saw he was nowhere to be seen. With that in mind, you were able to finish working and leave on time, briefly ignoring your fellow nurses questions about what Satoru wanted.

By the time you exited the clinic, changed out of your nurse scrubs and back in your casual attire, you were on your way to the bus stop down the street when you saw the only car left in the parking lot was still there.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” You hated how you could see Satoru’s white hair in the drivers seat, his head hung low as he looked at his phone. He was distracted and this was your chance to make an escape for the bus stop without him noticing.

You managed to make it out of the car park and on the way to the bus stop in peace, earbuds in your ears with music playing softly. But that wasn’t enough to stop the loud honk of a car beside you. He was driving beside you at a slow pace with the passenger side of the door wide open.

So careless.

He had it wide open as if he knew you’d get in.

So conceited.

Part of you wondered if you made a run for it, would he speed up and eventually have the door hit a pole? The thought of that made you laugh but you came to a stop and looked at him.

“Your door is open.” You stared blankly at him, stating the obvious.

He acted surprised and gasped as if the revelation shocked him. “Really? Wow. Maybe you should get in so I can close it?”

You looked at the bus stop which was only down the road. It’ll take 45 seconds max to reach it. But you could practically feel the warmth radiating from the inside of his car and fell to temptation.

He grinned wide as you stripped your bag off your shoulders and slid into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind you. “Atta girl,” he commented before speeding off.

It took everything in you to not glance over at him the entire ride. Something itching deep inside you that made you just want to peek at him once, but you knew he’d never shut up if he caught your attempts. He’d probably go on a long ramble about how he’s not surprised you couldn’t get enough of his pretty face and the thought made you want to gouge your eyes out.

Instead, you decided to peek out the window and try get a glimpse from his reflection. The car was speeding past so many streetlights at once making it somewhat easier to grab a solid reflection.

Staring at Satoru driving was one of your favourite things back then. He always looked so calm, one of those rare moments when his face wasn’t fixed in a smirk. His face was relaxed and he’d keep his pure attention on nothing but the road. Of course that made you determined to see what you could do to break that concentration, like holding his spare hand that wasn’t on the wheel, playing with his fingers and rings, or even (in the severe cases) going down on him just to hear him groan whilst struggling to maintain that concentration.

You knew deep down Satoru would never let the car crash, so it allowed the both of you to be reckless. A smile fixed on your face as you remembered those moments and before you knew it, the car came to a stop.

Outside his house.

“And we’re here!” He stopped the car engine but kept the lights on, allowing him to look at you better and man, your reaction was worth it.

“Huh? This isn’t my house Satoru.”

“It’s not?” He looked around before gasping. “Oops. Guess you’ll have to stay the night then.”

Ten seconds passed where you both just stared at each other, not speaking, just the sound of the crickets outside adding to the awkward silence.

“I’m walking home.” You grabbed your bag and made a move to exit the car before he locked the doors. You struggled with the door handle for a second before glaring at him. “Open it.”

He sighed, loud and bratty; practically throwing his head back against the headrest. “Can’t you see I’m trying here? What else do you want me to do man?”

“Maybe leave me alone, Satoru. It’s been five months. You clearly wanted nothing to do with me, now I’m returning the favour.”

“That’s not it though. Just…fuck. Please? Give me a chance.”

You shifted in your seat until you were sitting down again, looking dead straight at your hand in your lap as you began thinking. “...why now Satoru? Why today of all days? Why five months later, when I already let everything out of my system. Why did you choose to come back now when you had so many chances?”

He shifted forward, resting an arm on the steering wheel and resting his forehead against it. He shrugged.

“Honestly I don’t know. I just…didn’t think things through I guess until it was too late. At first, I was scared. I was spending too much time with you and it wasn’t like me. The anxious feeling I felt was because I was experiencing these new feelings because of you. So as a deflection, I stupidly convinced myself that you were busy, being a nurse and all and that was enough conviction I needed to convince myself to stop texting you, waiting for you to make the first move. You never did though, so I assumed you genuinely were busy. So I waited. And waited. And waited…but you never texted back. Then the fear I was feeling initially was just me coming to terms to the fact that…I liked you. But by the time it took me to realise, I found out I was blocked.”

He sighed again and sat back upright, resting his head against the headrest again and looked up at the car ceiling. “I deserved that block though. It only hit me that I actually ghosted you five months later. And I am sorry for that.” He tilted his head to the side and looked at you, deadly serious. “But it never would’ve escalated this far if you just texted me first.”

“There’s no way you’re blaming this on me right now.”

“I’m not. I just—fuck.” He pulled at his hair and sighed. “You’re right I’m sorry.” He flopped his head back against the car and reached his hand out over towards you.

You hesitantly grabbed onto it and he rubbed his thumb along your skin, holding your hand tight. “You forgive me yet?” He raised your hand to his lips and pressed kisses against your knuckles, giving you goosebumps.

You sat upright and leaned closer towards him, holding the side of his face in your palm before planting a kiss on his lips. It was short and to the point before you pulled away. “That answer your question?”

He looked at you for a moment before you closing the distance again, alternating between slow, sensual kisses and sucking your lower lip. You scramble out of your seat and he’s eager to lift you up and plop you down on his lap.

Your hands laced between his hair as you pressed your entire body against him. His hands on your body caressed every inch of skin he could grasp, digging his nails into your waist as your tongue invaded his mouth. He winced when you went to undo his buttons and you pulled away, remembering his injuries.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry ‘Toru.”

He chuckled. “Nah, it’s not a problem.” He couldn’t help himself and pecked your lips again to wash away your concern. “In fact wait.” He unlocked the car doors and told you to get out. He grabbed your things for you and held onto your hand, leading you into his house.

Your bag, his things ended up scattered on his living room floor as he carried you up to his bedroom. You were laid flat on his comfy bed, head rested against his soft pillows as he hovered on top of you, keeping a little gap between both your chests to avoid further pains.

You graciously accepted him with open legs, locking them around his waist as he kissed you as passionately as he could. His fingers roamed all over your skin, peeling your clothes away and examining your body, naked and vulnerable beneath him.

The two of you barely spoke the whole time, too busy focusing all your energy into just enjoying the moment, the feeling of your lips against each others, the slide of your hands down his back, the caress of his hands along your waist.

His lips attached to your neck like a leech, sucking until the blood rushed to the surface as his fingers went rampant between your legs, fucking in and out of your wet pussy, his thumb circling your clit.

Your moans were heaven to his ears. He couldn’t wait to see your eyes cross when he sinks into your pussy. The image stayed in his mind as he quickly pulled his fingers out and switched your positions. He laid flat on his back and adjusted you on his lap.

You reached behind yourself to grab at his hard cock and pumped it a few times before shifting it underneath you. His cock slipped into you easily but the rest was hard, sinking down was painful, his cock carving its way into your pussy.

You had an iron grip on his arm as he held your hips, your nails digging and leaving marks into his flesh. It hurt but it hurt so good. Satoru rolled his hips up to help you sink down, each roll pushing his cock further inside. It took longer than it should’ve for him to bottom out, but the second he did, you collapsed on his chest.

He winced again but the pain was worth it. Your arms wound around his neck and he began rocking you back and forth against his cock.

“That feel good?” he questioned, his voice right beside your ear sending tingles down your spine.

“Mhm-mhm.” You bit your lip hard before sitting upright, resting your arms against the headboard for balance as you created your own rhythm. His chest was too injured for you to hold onto it, so the headboard was the next best bet.

He hissed when you started bouncing like your life depended on it, his grip on your hips and waist becoming even tighter. “Fuck— don’t stop,” he gritted out, low grunts spilling from his lips.

His breathing got heavier as you sped up, grinding your body above him in any direction you could, desperate to feel more of him inside you. He moaned loudly in your ear and the next thing you knew, your world was being flipped.

Injuries aside, that didn’t stop Satoru from flipping you onto your back, his cock still nestled inside you and starting off a brutal pace, slamming his hips against yours. The bed kept smacking against the wall with each thrust. His hands had a death like grip on your hips, keeping you pinned down to make sure you take everything he’s giving you.

Your nails dug painfully into his shoulder blades, not able to do anything but just scream litanies of curses and his name as you felt yourself getting closer.

“C’mon, please, fuck me Satoru—I’m ah—’m so close ‘Toru please,” you begged, bringing him down for another kiss. You bit at his lip before sucking the length of his tongue, a move that you remember drove him crazy.

“Scratch me,” he whispers against your lips, removing his hands from your hips to rest beside your head, keeping him upright. “Mark me baby I know you can do it.”

Your hands reach towards his back and drag your nails along his flesh. It stung so bad but he didn’t care. He wanted to feel it, feel every emotion pent up inside you for months and left as a red line on his back. He wanted it to scar, wanted it to be a reminder whenever he looked in the mirror that you left that on him. That you were his now.

The thought had him speeding up, plowing your body into the matress; your nails kept scratching, some lines even drawing blood with how deep you scratched. You reached a hand up to his hair and tugged and he lost it.

His hips stuttered inside you and his cock began to leak before he could even process what was going on. He didn’t stop steadily fucking into you as you came on his cock, as his cum began to fill your insides.

He thrusted one more final time before his arms gave out, collapsing on top of you. His weight was more than you could bear, but that didn’t stop you from holding him as tight as you could. Your fingers ran through his hair, scratching lightly as his undercut as he took the time to catch his breath.

A minute later he was shifting off you, rolling onto the spot beside you before wincing again, the scratching on his back far too sensitive.

You told him to sit up and then gasped when you witnessed how much damage you did. “Oh my god.”

“What? What?”

You pointed over to the mirror inside his bathroom and he slid off the bed and walked towards it, examining the marks on his back. You followed shortly after, standing behind him and watching as he kept wincing when he tried to touch it.

“I’m so sorry—I didn’t—I need to cut my nails.”

He shook his head and rested his forehead against yours, looking down at you and smiling. “It’s nothing a nurse can’t handle.” He winked at before pecking your lips.

A few hours ago, the idea of patching Satoru up was enough to leave you grumpy for a day, but now it fills you with excitement.

You can’t wait.

#— jjk </3 #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader #satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

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turcott3 · 2 months

Text

good looking

matt rempe x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, fluff, kissing, pet names

oh my good looking boy…

masterlist

“matt?” you call out as you hear your apartment door shut from your bed. you heard keys drop in the bowl and that answered your suspicion. the rangers had just lost the day prior and he was just coming back home.

“matt?” you ask again, getting out of bed walking out into your living room, “baby?”

“i’m home.” he smiles, revealing the flowers he’d bought for you on his short trip from the airport.

“awe matty you didn’t have to.” you frown sweetly at the gesture, taking the flowers from his hands.

“i wanted to, i missed you.” the brunette says lowly, towering over you. you noted the stitches in his nose. his face a little swollen from his fight last night that he’d unfortunately fallen short in.

“i missed you too.” you reply as he leans down kissing you gently on the lips.

“you go get settled, i’ll take care of these fucking gorgeous flowers and dinner, okay?” you say running a careful finger over the cut on his face which he winced slightly at the touch.

“okay.” he smiled lightly.

“looks like he got you good.” you giggled.

“yeah well can’t win em all. i was exhausted.” he sighs.

“i’ll step in next time, can’t let em beat up my good looking boy.” you smile sweetly, placing a light hand on his cheek.

“would you still love me even if my face gets pounded? entirely theoretical by the way.” he giggles lightly.

“yes matt, i would. even when you had a broken nose and black eyes you were still the most handsome man i’ve ever laid my eyes on.” you reply with no hesitation as he lifts you off the ground in a hug.

“god i love you.” he says placing a kiss on your head, “i’m gonna unpack, when i’m done i’ll come help you with dinner, okay baby?”

“okay, no rush.” you say as he kisses you one last time before dragging his bags into your bedroom. you start dinner with a huge smile on your face. the way he made you feel was, undeniably, the feeling of true love. the way you get butterflies every time he walks in the room, the sweet gestures such as giving you flowers or a writing you a letter and left it for you when he leaves for morning practice. it all made you grow more and more in love with him everyday. you didn’t know how you could possibly be more in debt to him even though he did it out of the kindness of his heart, not to get something back from you.

“let me take over. go change, i got you something.” he says sneaking up behind you, placing delicate hands on your waist and leaning his head in the crook of your neck.

“just stir it every now and then.” you reply kissing him on the cheek and escaping his grasp, quickly walking to your bedroom. laid out on the bed was a satin pajama set, the exact one you’ve been talking about since you saw it at the mall at least a month ago.

“he remembered.” you scoff, your heart growing warm. you quickly discard your clothes, changing into the silky satin of your new pajamas. you looked at yourself in the mirror, loving the way it complimented your skin tone. confidently, you walked back out into the kitchen.

“matthew rempe.” you say startling him.

“what happened?”

“are you serious? i’ve been talking about these for so long and you remembered?” you say as a smile grows on his face.

“well yeah, of course i did.”

“oh thank you thank you thank you. i love them so much.” you say walking over to him quickly wrapping your arms around him. soon enough you were enveloped in his large, loving arms once again.

“i’m glad, you look beautiful.” he giggles.

“dishes are done.” matt smiles waltzing into the bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

“can i take a look at the cut on your face?” you ask, stopping him in his tracks.

“it’s okay, you don’t have to-“

“no come on,” you say throwing the covers off of you. he takes a seat on the closed toilet lid and separates his legs for you to stand between. you take your place between his legs taking his face into your hands and brush his hair out of the way. his arms find their way around your legs, holding you lightly in place. you scanned the cut, noting that they had simply stitched him up and sent him on his way.

“they really stitched you up and sent you back out didn’t they?” you ask.

“yeah.”

“hold one second, i just want to clean it and put a bandaid on it so it doesn’t look so gnarly.” you say, tapping his arm to let you go. you dig under the sink finding alcohol and cotton balls, as well as a bandaid.

“it’s gonna burn.” you state holding the soaked cotton ball.

“try me.” he simply replied and you shrug pressing it straight onto the cut. his grip on your legs tightened and he clenched his eyes shut at the contact.

“okay just kidding.” he says, clearly in pain.

“i told you honey.” you laugh pressing a kiss to the top of the boys head. you cleaned him up and perfectly placed the bandaid on top of the cut, kissing it once it was laid flat.

“much better.” you smile locking eyes with the boy, who you swear was giving you literal heart eyes.

“thank you my love.” he says kissing you delicately on the cheek before following closely behind you on your way back into the room.

“come here you big baby.” you laugh leaning your back slightly up against the headboard, waiting for the 6’7 baby to take his place on your chest, which he of course did very quickly.

“thank you for cleaning my cut and taking care of me y/n.” he says quietly as you run your fingers gently through his brown locks.

“and thank you for loving me the way you do.” he continues, leaning up to look at you.

“it’s hard not to, i’d do anything for you matt. it’s a privilege to know you, let alone love you.” you giggle

“my beautiful girl.” he sighs with a smile as he kisses you lovingly before laying his head back down on your chest carefully.

“i love you matt.” you say with your hand finding its way back into his soft hair.

“i love you so much more baby.” he replies, his hands finding their way underneath you.

“you’re about to go to sleep on me aren’t you?”you ask noticing his breathing slowing down.

“yep.” he replies quietly, allowing the sleepy boy to drift off to sleep in the comfort of your embrace.

#matt rempe #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe fluff #ny rangers #fluff #nhl imagine #turcs’ talk

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familyvideostevie · 3 months

Text

you have me, you have me only

joel miller x reader you get (minorly) injured on patrol. joel does his best to patch you up and not worry too much. | jackson!joel, hurt/comfort, wound-patching, some blood, a jesse cameo, joel being joel, all that good stuff. | 4.2k a/n: part of the just and just as verse. not too soft but not too angsty, either. just another day after the end of the world, you know? thank you @mrsmando for your eyes on this! <3

___

"Almost there," you mutter. "Fuck."

The icy winter wind dulls the stinging in your palms to a numbness. The leather gloves you've had for half a decade stay tucked in your pockets. You don't want to ruin their lining with dirt and blood.

"How's the head?"

Jesse pulls up alongside you in a trot. The adrenaline from your patrol-gone-wrong pulses heavy at the top of your spine, your vision sharp and the whole world a little too loud around you as Jackson comes into view at the bottom of the hill. Your head, like the rest of you, throbs.

"I'll live."

He scoffs and his horse snorts as if agreeing with him. In truth, you're more pissed than injured, though it certainly looks like you lost a fight. Jesse's cheekbone will no doubt bloom purple tomorrow and his lip is still bleeding sluggishly. His jeans are splattered with gore, same as yours.

"Thanks for back there," he says.

You shrug and wince when it pulls at the skin of your side where you fell.

"You, too," you tell him with a grimace. "That was quick thinking with the brick."

You like him -- he's good at his job and he's a good friend to Ellie. You know Tommy and Maria are not-so-subtly training him to run this place someday if he wants to. As a patrol partner, you can't ask for much better. He knows all the routes and he's a good shot and his mom knows everything there is to know about everyone in town and sometimes he passes tidbits on to you.

But knowing your shit doesn't mean a damn thing in this world, sometimes. You can still get ambushed by infected on patrol and it can still fuck up your day.

He waves you off. "I just can't believe an elk chose our station to fucking die in."

"Tommy is going to shit himself when you tell him," you laugh. It pulls at your ribs. God, is there any part of you that didn't take a beating?

"He'll just be pissed he wasn't here."

Your horses reach the bottom of the hill and Jesse hesitates, the green scrap of cloth in his hand. The red one indicating an injured party peeks out from his pocket.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the clinic?"

"I'm fine," you say firmly. "I can patch up at home."

He eyes the cut on your forehead and your scraped palms but caves under your glare and waves the green flag.

"Joel makes the same face," he mutters. "Ellie does, too. Freaky."

The gates open and you grunt when you get off your horse, palms back to stinging.

"Joel's two expressions are pissed and annoyed," you say. “Not hard to pick one up.” You press the back of your hand to your forehead and it comes back tacky with blood. "Fuck."

"I don't think you'll need a stitch." Jesse holds his hand out for your patrol rifle and pats the neck of your horse. "I'll debrief and get these guys settled. You go home."

Normally, you'd protest. But you really just want to take a hot shower and sleep for twelve hours, so you nod and shoulder your pack carefully.

"Make sure you tell Tommy about beating a stalker to death with a brick," you call over your shoulder. "He'll be impressed."

Jesse laughs.

Snow crunches under your boots on the way home. Fuck, you're exhausted. The adrenaline fades with each step and the aches become sharp pains. There aren't too many people out today on account of the cold but you nod and wave, ignoring the double takes at the blood on your clothes.

It'll be a pain in the ass if you can't patch the ruined knees of your jeans. Maybe you can convince Joel to carve something for the woman down the street who can sew better than anyone in town. Finding new pants is damn near impossible.

You’re practically dragging your feet by the time you reach your house. The mailbox labeled Miller, the wind chimes gently swaying on the porch, all of it puts you at ease. You made it home.

The porch steps groan as you climb them and the front door opens from the inside as you reach the top. Joel steps out, hand still on the knob when he looks up and sees you. His eyes widen.

He was on patrol today, too. You left at the same time but he had a shorter route and must have gotten back a while ago.

"Are you coming to meet me?" you say with a grin that's genuine despite the way your body pulses with pain. He does this sometimes -- milling around the gate, chatting with people on the wall as he waits for you to return. You never really feel like you're home until you see his face.

Joel does not smile back. His eyes rake over you the same way he surveys a room, cataloging all of the important things. The gash on your temple, the rips in your jeans, the way you're favoring your left side. The blood, too -- it's everywhere, you're sure. Palms, knees, collar. Jesse helped you wipe your face before you rode back so that you could see without blood in your eyes, but you must look pretty fucking rough.

"Jesus," he says. His hand twitches like he's going to reach for you. "You okay?"

"I'll be better when I'm not standing out in the cold."

His nostrils flare and he heads back into the house, you on his heels. You dump your pack and sit down heavily on the bench to take off your boots. Joel beats you to it, lowering to one knee with a slight groan, fingers working at your laces.

Normally he'd ask how patrol was, how Jesse did, if you saw anything interesting. Instead, his cheek twitches like he's clenching his jaw so hard it hurts. He unties your double knots with practiced ease and his silence fills the entryway of your house.

In another life, the sight of him on one knee would set your heart aflutter. As it is, you want to run a hand through his hair and smooth the worry lines on his forehead. You know him and this is how he handles it -- he chews on blame that doesn't belong on his shoulders until he can fix it.

"I'm fine," you say softly. You open and close your hands, resting them on your knees. You got most of the gravel out but there's dirt and god knows what else embedded in the tender flesh. Joel pulls off one boot with a firm hand on your calf and then the other before finally looking up at you.

"You wanna explain...this, then?"

His hand waves up in your general direction. There's no tremble in his palm but his brows are furrowed, his shoulders set in that way of his, like he's bracing for bad news. You have a rule about not lying to each other. So if you say you're fine, you're fine. Achey, bloody, and gross, sure. But you made it home in one piece and now you'll let him take care of you and he has to be okay with that.

But you don't mind reassuring him. He worries, and you know the feeling.

You shrug and fail to hide your wince. Joel wraps a hand around your ankle and squeezes lightly.

"I've had worse," you say. "I'll tell you about it if you patch me up."

He softens a little and sighs. It won't do anything to remind him that he can't go back in time and stop you from getting hurt. Joel knows he can't fix everything, can't keep everyone he loves away from harm, can't save the world. Won't, if it comes at the expense of the people in his heart.

But you can give him something to do -- a way to make it better. You could probably bandage your hands and your forehead and the rest on your own but it'll help him just as much as you if he does it.

Life in this world is a constant give and take. You have to be okay with some things, with cuts and bruises and ruined clothes if it means you survived. There's no safety, not anymore.

"Alright, c'mon," he says, standing with a groan. "Upstairs, 'fore you bleed on the furniture."

He holds out a hand for you to stand but you show him your mangled palm. Joel clicks his tongue and grips your forearm gently instead as you rise.

"Gotta clean that," he says.

"That's the plan." You leave your coat and pack behind in a heap and head for the stairs. "A hot shower sounds so fucking good right now."

Joel stops you with a hand on your elbow and you turn on the bottom step. He traces the cut on your forehead with light fingers and you try not to wince.

"Shower," he says. "I'll patch you up after." His tone leaves no room for argument.

You ghost your fingertips along his jaw and smile at him.

"Yes sir, Mr. Miller, sir."

More tension melts from his shoulders and he rolls his eyes at you. You laugh all the way to the bathroom, even though it hurts a little.

It's been a while since one of you returned from patrol with any sort of injury. Winter means the hoards are sluggish and easy to track and tends to keep groups of people from coming to the valley and making trouble. Today was bad luck and could have been much worse.

You both know how quickly all of the good in your lives can be snatched away. Everyone does.

But you just can't dwell on it. Joel knows it, too, and letting him fuss over you in that way of his will remind him. You're home. You're okay.

You leave the bathroom door cracked as you shower under the gentle spray. Your various injuries sting but you manage to clean the scrapes on your knees and hands and wash the blood from your skin and hair, the water rusty brown as it swirls around the drain.

Joel knocks when you're almost done and the hinges groan when he steps into the bathroom.

"Leavin' you clothes," he says, voice raised so you hear over the spray. "You okay?"

"Still alive," you call back. "Almost done."

The water starts to turn lukewarm so you switch off the stream and drag back the curtain. Joel is nowhere to be found but he's left you loose shorts so your knees are exposed and a big, faded graphic t-shirt that you brought home for him as a joke last year as well as fresh underwear and warm socks. You gently pat your skin dry with an old and scratchy towel and do your best with your hair before sliding them on.

Joel knocks again and this time he has the bag with all of your first aid stuff in his hands. The steam from your shower rushes out into your bedroom and you shiver.

He jerks his chin at the counter. "Wanna get up there?"

You haul yourself up with a groan and he stands between your knees, arms crossed and head cocked.

"What're we dealin' with, here?"

You look down at your messy palms and rattle off what hurts.

"Cut on my forehead, bruised rib, probably, fucked up hands and knees, and..." You look up and find Joel running a hand down his face. "That's it."

"You sure?"

You glare at him. He glares back. His eyes drift to your forehead gash.

"Cut could use a stitch."

He's still tense, you can tell, probably will be until he wakes up tomorrow and you're still next to him in bed. Until the wounds turn to scabs turn to scars. Maybe not even then.

"I think I've had enough cuts over the years to know what needs a stitch."

His eyebrows rise just a little bit, turning his expression from interrogative to exasperated, but he knows better than to tell you to do something when you’ve set your mind against it.

"They're offerin' medical degrees on the Creek Trails, now?"

"Joel."

He holds his hands up in surrender. "Fine," he says. "Let me feel your ribs."

You raise your arms a little and he slides his palms under your shirt and up your torso, pressing gently as he goes. Braless as you are, he brushes the underside of your breast, and your breath hitches. His eyes are soft with quiet amusement but he doesn't tease you.

"Your hands are warm," you murmur. He reaches the place on your side that took the brunt of the impact and you hiss.

"Sorry," he says. "Doin' real good. Deep breath for me." You obey and he withdraws, satisfied.

"Nothin' broken," he says.

"Told you."

He hums and pulls out the precious few disinfectant wipes from your first aid kid. You can get Joel to do a lot of things just by asking, but arguing with him about wasting supplies on you never works. He washes his hands in the sink and glares are you like he knows what you’re thinking.

"Forehead first, then hands, then knees," he says. "Okay?'

You nod, eyes fluttering shut. He grips your face with gentle fingertips to keep you still.

"How was your patrol?" you ask him.

He makes a noise low in his throat that's halfway to being a laugh.

"C'mon," he says. "You don't want to hear about mine. I know you're dyin' to tell me what happened."

The alcohol wipe stings as he swabs at your forehead and you tense. Joel's thumb rubs slow circles at the corner of your mouth and you press your knees into his hips.

Funny how you've had broken bones, been stabbed, shot, pretty much everything over the last twenty years but it's the small stuff that hurts the most. Stubbed toes, sliced fingers, alcohol wipes on shallow wounds. Some things just don't change.

"Okay," you say. "Well, you'll never believe it, but a damn elk decided to die in the station where the logbook is."

You tell him how you and Jesse rode up and saw the blood trail immediately and heard the moans and groans. You kept the horses on the other side of the fence and checked the first floor and the overlook, but the elk had weaseled its way under the collapsed staircase.

It smelled like death, rust and decay heavy in the air. The animal must have died just after the last patrol.

But it wasn't the problem. It was the group of Infected it attracted -- two runners and four stalkers. You have no idea where they came from but, since you were on patrol, the priority was eliminating them. The runners were easier, although one of them was responsible for the gash on your forehead when it managed to push you into the wall. You and Jesse cleared them quickly, one bullet each.

You thought you got all of the stalkers. One of them was munching on the carcass and went down fairly easily with your good aim. Jesse helped you clean your forehead so you both could clear the passage to get to the upper level and sign the logbook. The corpses went over the side of the station into the forest below. The Infected had eaten so much of the elk that it wasn't too heavy, though you both were sweating and dirty by the time you finished.

"Lemme guess," Joel says. You open your eyes as he carefully pulls the wound closed with two butterfly bandages before he gestures for your hand. He holds your wrist gently and tilts your palm side to side, looking for dirt. "There were infected inside the station, too."

"Look at you," you tease. His eyes flick to yours for just a second, intense as always. "It's like you were there."

"Smartass," he grumbles. The disinfectant stings on your palm, too, but you keep talking and keep your gaze on his face.

"Jesse climbed the rope up to the control room first but had to fend off a stalker at the top so he didn't see when another one grabbed my ankle and pulled me down mid-climb, which fucked my hands. The fall is how my rib got bruised and I tore up my knees fending it off."

Joel's cheek twitches. He wraps one of your palms in gauze and turns his attention to the other.

"Fuckin' hate those things."

"Me, too. When I got to the top, finally, Jesse was tugging a pipe from the head of a corpse. There was one more -- it jumped out of that supply room on the side, the one where Ellie found a bong, once, I think. I dodged it but my gun jammed and my hands were bleeding."

"Should've been wearing gloves."

You tap his leg with your foot and ignore him. Not taking your bait about the bong means he’s still pissed. "And then Jesse killed it with a brick."

"I taught him that," Joel grumbles.

He ties off your other palm and as soon as he's done you frame his face. Joel allows it, allows you to stare at him for a few seconds like you're memorizing him. You're telling the story like it was a fun adventure -- and it was. You're plenty capable and he knows it, too.

But you were scared. You don't tell him that right now, instead grounding yourself in the man in front of you. His hands are rough and dangerous to most, but tender and careful to you. The broad, firm line of his shoulders, always braced for the next hit.

The gash on the bridge of his nose, the lines at the corners of his eyes. His beard, greyer every year. You swipe your thumbs along his cheekbones and he sighs.

"Lucky me," you say softly.

You lean in to kiss him, just a light press of your lips to his. His wide palms rest on your bare thighs and he kisses back with a kind of desperate firmness, as if he's proving to himself that you're real. That you're here in front of him, under his hands, in his care.

Joel drags his lips along your cheek.

"Knees," he says.

He steps back and releases your thighs with a squeeze. He treats more of your torn skin, a frown back on his face.

"I do want to hear about your patrol, by the way."

He shrugs. "Not much to tell," he says. "Didn't even get to shoot anythin’.”

You swing your foot back and forth, tapping the side of his thigh with every pass.

"But you had the nice route," you whine. "Tell me what the lake looked like."

"Quit distracting me," he grumbles.

"Like you don't have the steadiest hands in all of Jackson," you say softly.

He snorts. "Are you flirtin' with me?"

"I'm always flirting with you, Joel Miller."

You lied to Jesse earlier -- Joel has hundreds of expressions. He just keeps most of them for you. For Ellie, and Tommy, too. You know every one of them by now.

The look on his face now says he's thinking about kissing you again, maybe just to shut you up.

You grin at him. "Tell me about your patrol, now, seriously. Unless talking and using your hands at the same time is too much for you."

He smirks back. "Think we both know that ain't true."

"Now who's flirting?"

Lazy heat curls in your belly but fatigue stops it from turning into anything. Joel must see that in your eyes because he simply taps your chin with a knuckle and starts talking.

You start to slump as his Texas drawl wraps around you. He tells you how the lake was still, how he and Astrid saw bear tracks but no bear. How he found a tape for Ellie that he's going to give her tomorrow, how he wore his gloves today like you've been telling him to.

Some people might say that Joel is a man of few words. You thought he was the quiet type when you first met him, another stoic survivor in a world that demands hardness of everyone. But not shy, never shy. Just...waiting. Watching.

He and Ellie can shoot the shit for hours -- a dynamic they've fallen back into easily enough since they started spending time together again. He's funny, he's clever, he's annoying as shit when he wants to be.

And Joel is quite the storyteller. If you had to guess you'd say it comes from having to entertain Tommy when they were kids, from getting Sarah into bed on his own over and over. Keeping Ellie occupied, keeping her talking when things were scary and hard and fucking awful.

It's just another way he takes care of people.

"Still with me?" he says. You realize your eyes have closed. When you open them you find Joel looking at you with tenderness and a spark of amusement. The tense line of his shoulders is nowhere to be seen. "All done. Tired?"

"And hungry."

He washes his hands and throws away the various wrappers and blood-stained wipes.

"Sure you're awake enough to eat?" he teases.

You roll your eyes at him. He laughs.

"Joel," you say, catching his elbow. "Thank you."

"C'mon, now."

He looks like he wants to argue with you for saying it but reaches for you instead. He traces the cut on your forehead just like he did at the bottom of the stairs, brow drawn again. You can't tell what he's thinking as he drags his thumb down and around your eye, cupping your cheek fully for just a breath before releasing you and stepping towards the door.

"I'll heat some soup."

Dinner is quick and quiet, your energy sapped from you to the point of exhaustion. Everything aches, despite Joel's thorough care. When he suggests turning in early you don't protest.

He takes longer than you to get ready for bed. You slide under the worn duvet and wait, trying very hard to keep your eyes open. Your bruised ribs throb in time with your heartbeat and when Joel finally turns off the light and gets in bed next to you in his threadbare sleep pants he practically hauls you into his embrace.

You go willingly, tangling your legs and laying your head on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. You press your palm to his chest, fingers threading in the coarse hair. His heart thuds and it grounds you.

"I didn't get any good gossip off Jesse," you whisper. "On account of the whole surprise-infected thing."

He yawns. "S'pose it's a good excuse."

"Can I tell you something else?" you whisper. "A secret?"

Joel hums, lips brushing your temple as his hand snakes up your sleep shirt to press against your lower back.

Even though you know each other down to the bones, some things remain inexplicable. Parts of your pasts that linger in the darkest parts of you, the parts that stay shrouded until the moments like this. You don't have to be brave in the quiet hours of the night, entwined with him as you are. It's the safest place you'll ever be. Safe enough that you can crack open and let Joel in, let those steady and worn hands keep you together.

"I was scared today," you say into his neck. "When the stalker dragged me off the rope. I panicked, I --"

You don't tell him how your initial thought when you hit the ground was of him, how you closed your eyes tight and thought of your name from his mouth, of his smile when you come through the door. The stalker had its bony fingers digging into your ankle and you wondered if you'd ever feel Joel's hands on you again.

Death will come for you sooner or later and when it does it'll be Joel's face that you hold in your mind before it all ends.

But today, you kicked death until its stupid fucking mushroom skull caved in.

Joel presses his lips to your temple. You can feel his heart beating faster, as fast as yours. It's the only thing that betrays his own fear.

Wounds in this life often go deeper than the skin. When Joel comes home with bloody knuckles and shuttered eyes it's one thing to stop the bleeding, to bandage him and get him to eat something. It's another to hold him, to coax out the story, the fear. To follow him downstairs when he has a nightmare, to look for him in every room. It's all part of what you do as partners, as lovers, as people in this world. You take care of each other.

Neither of you can fix a lot of things. But you can ensure the scars heal into something light, something you can barely see.

You can hold each other in the dark.

"Scared me, too," he rasps. A secret for a secret. "Lotta damn blood."

You kiss the underside of his jaw. "Can't get rid of me that easy."

Joel pulls you closer, somehow, mindful of your side.

"Rest, now," he says. "You ain’t goin' anywhere."

It's a command, a promise. You hum your agreement and let sleep drag you under.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #just and just as

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